Unexpected
by Zelz Saihitei
Summary: [completed] Some things happen without warning, without expectation. And when they do, how can one react without hearts being broken? [warning: femmeslash]
1. Chapter One: Only a Kiss

There, I've now popped my HP fan fiction cherry with this first installment of a story that I otherwise have no idea where it's going. It was all inspired by the song "Mr Brightside" by The Killers, which I've been listening to too much recently. But it's a lovely song - I recommend it.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and affiliated characters, along with their settings and the construction of their world, does not belong to me. Suing will be met with many shed emo tears.

Unexpected

Chapter One: Only a Kiss

Hermione stood there, hands shaking, eyes wide. The intensity of emotions within her was drowning out any sense of reason or logic she had inside of her. It was if everything had stopped, sans the loud pounding of her heart in her ears. The sound terrified her with its inconsistent speed. She was afraid it was going to stop at any moment.

From a mere foot away stood Ginny Weasley, lips parted slightly, her eyes half-closed and clouded. Some locks of her crimson hair had fallen across her cheek; Hermione was afraid to push it away from her face, to look upon the girl who had just kissed her. She wasn't sure what might happen after that. In fact, Hermione wasn't even sure how it had come to this. They were standing there, looking up towards the sky as the Weasley boys and Harry played a small game of Quidditch in the fields behind the Burrow. Harry and Percy were Seekers against each other; it was obvious the boys were enjoying the competition. Fred and George were flying lazily around and trying to hit the bludgers towards Percy. Percy was swearing at them and losing balance on the broom. Bill had just scored another point, and she opened her mouth to cheer, when suddenly there was a small warm hand resting on her hip, another on her cheek, and full lips were pressed to hers.

But how? Why?

"Gin -" Hermione tried to say, but her throat rebelled and choked on the younger girl's name. She felt her cheeks blossom into bright red.

"Dinner in five minutes!" came the call from the window, Molly Weasley's voice magnified by ten times through magic. "Stop playing out there and get washed up! I don't want to see any dirty faces or hands when you show up at the dinner table!"

"We should go inside," Ginny said, pulling herself farther away from Hermione. The brunette simply stared at her, feeling at a loss for words for the first time in her life. Ginny could tell, and smiled halfheartedly at her, before walking away without her. She could only watch and wonder what was going on in Ginny Weasley's head.

"Hermione, did you see that last play at the end? Bloody brilliant!" Ron called from a few yards away.

"Too bad Mum had to go and ruin the game," Fred sulked, suddenly next to Hermione, and putting his arm loosely around her shoulders. "We were about to kill Percy with the bludgers."

"Fred, you really shouldn't talk like that," she replied automatically. Her body knew what to do; it led her towards the house, it replied to the conversation, it flirted platonically with the Weasley twins, and it chastised Ron when he said something blockheaded.

_Why?_ she thought over and over again, each time becoming more panicked. It was as if alarms were going off all around her, inside her, and as she laughed, she knew that she was the only person in the world that knew they were ringing.

Ginny was sitting at table already, hands folded neatly on her lap. Everything was already set on the table; Molly had been nice enough to let them enjoy their summer evening without bothering them with simple tasks, though Hermione couldn't help but feel guilty for not offering to help. She and Ginny could have set the table, helped her make some of the food…

_What are you thinking, Hermione?_ She wanted to roll her eyes at herself. _Do you think that by doing something else that wouldn't have happened? She wouldn't have kissed you anywhere else? Besides, it's not as if -_

"Hey, 'Mione, you all right?" It was Harry next to her now, one eyebrow cocked upwards. She realized she was the only one not sitting down, and the rest of the family was looking at her with a collective expectant and strange look. All, except Ginny. The youngest Weasley's eyes were full of longing, sadness, and an emotion Hermione couldn't even begin to analyze.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly, voice cracking only slightly before she was smart enough to look away from those eyes. "Got a little too caught up in my thoughts. I just remembered something I could add to the assigned essay for Potions."

That set off a round of groans for Harry and Ron, and the rest of the boys joined in to mock Professor Snape. Hermione slipped into the seat from Ginny, suddenly very aware of how small the table was, and how close they really had been this entire time.

Both of the girls played along with the conversation, though they avoided talking to each other. Ginny excused herself early, claiming fatigue and a bothersome sunburn. Fred and George made a joke about the amount of freckles on her face and she laughed halfheartedly. Hermione watched her back as she walked away, the hunched shoulders making her heart burn in an unexpected way.

Hermione stumbled into Ginny's bedroom at almost midnight, after a few games of Wizard's Chess with Ron, who usually couldn't beat her, but had found it remarkably easy to take her queen three times out of five. She could feel their concerned looks on her shoulder blades as she retreated up the stairs, but she made them no heed. It was none of their business what was going on in her head. Especially since she wasn't precisely sure what was going on in it in the first place.

The young redhead was fast asleep. Hermione's eyes found themselves trailing across her exposed skin, which was so pale and smooth underneath the moonbeams streaming in through the window. Her hair looked silky and dark red, and the long locks fell over her closed eyes. Her lips were parted again, like they were in the moments after the kiss. Hermione reached up and pressed her fingers into her lips, and found her heart beating faster again.

Her hands shook as she took off her jeans and t-shirt, leaving them in a pile next to her suitcase, and she dropped her night t-shirt at least three times before she could pull it over her head. Her eyes kept on wandering towards Ginny's legs, sprawled out over the blankets and deliciously bare. The girl was only wearing an oversized t-shirt, like she was, and a pair of panties. It was what they always wore to bed during the summer, and they always slept together during the summer. So why did it make her feel so self-conscious now?

Why could she still feel Ginny's lips against hers? Why was her body on fire; why did she want so badly to brush away the hair that veiled Ginny's beautiful, sleeping face, want so badly to trail fingers up her long, long legs?

Hermione closed her eyes and counted to ten, up and down the numbers, over and over again. When she opened them again, Ginny still lay there, and still looked beautiful in her eyes.

She let out a sigh and gingerly crawled into bed, facing away from the girl that had left her feeling so confused. Sleep didn't take her until nearly dawn.

_It started out with a kiss._


	2. Chapter Two: Denial

Unexpected

Chapter Two: Denial

Ginny woke up just after the sun. The light fell into her eyes and she squinted, snuggling closer into her sheets and pillows to find curled locks of chestnut brown next to her nose. She breathed in, smelling almonds and raspberries, and swallowed. Unbidden, her eyes traveled over a few more inches to see Hermione Granger bathed in sunlight.

It was amazing how many times she had memorized the older girl's face. She was an expert in the swoop of her long, nutmeg lashes, the curve of her cheekbone, the shape of her mouth (full bottom lip, stained the same color as a faded pink rose; and now she knew that they really did feel like rose petals, the way she'd always imagined). She knew where the shadows fell across her nose, and where a few secret freckles hid beyond sight, just on the side of her forehead, usually hidden by her hair. Perhaps even Hermione didn't know they were there.

_Hermione doesn't know a lot of things_, Ginny thought to herself, closing her mouth around a sigh. She let her fingers wrap around the few strands closest to her, careful to not tug, and thought about yesterday for the billionth time. Yes, maybe the moment had come unexpected. She probably should have waited to pull something like that. But she'd been thinking about the taste and feel of Hermione's lips on hers almost all day, all week, all year, for four years… Ever since Ginny had been admitted into the hospital wing after being rescued by Harry and Ron from Tom Riddle. It was right after they had given her the antidote to un-Petrify her. Ginny remembered waking groggily and seeing the older girl sleeping peacefully, curled up on her side like a kitten. Despite the fact that her body and mind were broken, she couldn't help but smile and be glad that Hermione was all right.

From there, Ginny found herself waiting expectantly for Ron to receive word from the Muggle-born girl all summer. She visited a few times to the Burrow that year, though Harry couldn't join them. Each time, Ginny's mother asked her to share a bed. Each time, Ginny gladly accepted, and they slowly became closer. The first thing they ever discussed was what it was like to live in the same household as Ronald Weasley. The thought of the conversation still made her chuckle.

"He chews his fingernails constantly," Ginny had told her, sitting cross-legged on her bed. Hermione sat across from her in the same position, and between them, a box of Every Flavor Beans sat open. "He'll be talking to me sometimes, and all of a sudden a piece of fingernail will fly out and hit me in the face. It's disgusting."

"So that's what's been coming out of his mouth," Hermione had replied, popping some beans into her mouth with a grin that spoke of coming laughter. "I just thought he didn't take care of his teeth, and that plaque was flying out at me… No wonder he didn't understand when I referred him to see my parents."

Ginny laughed aloud. Hermione stirred next to her and started to open her eyes. The panic button erupted in the redhead's brain, and she immediately pulled her fingers out of Hermione's hair and retreated farther towards the wall, feeling embarrassed, and a little sad.

"Morning, 'Mione," Ginny said in a small voice. The panic button raised its alarm again; _what if she asks me about yesterday? What am I supposed to say?_

"Good morning," Hermione replied through a yawn, stretching her arms up. Ginny tried not to look at the delicate wrists and fingers she wanted so badly to hold. "Sorry if I woke you at all when I came into bed; it was a little late, and I know you were tired."

Ginny shook her head. "No, I didn't even hear you come in." _Warning: close proximity to target. Target speaking casually. Course of action?_ "So, did Ron throw another fit when you beat him a few too many times at chess?" she asked brightly, half-sitting up to get the sun out of her eyes - and to increase the distance between them.

"No…" The other girl smiled a bit sadly. Ginny wasn't sure what to think of it. "I wasn't really on top of my game last night. He beat me more often than I beat him. I think it worried him a little."

The redhead laughed a little. "Ron would be worried if it seemed like he was getting smarter than you," she replied teasingly. "I think he would try to get himself expelled, just in case he started scoring higher on tests than you did."

Hermione made a nose of disbelief and rolled her eyes. "Ha, as if that were possible, considering he and Harry are more concerned with Quidditch strategies than with actual schoolwork." She let her voice trail and looked out the window, towards the fields, and licked her lips. "Ginny… About yesterday…"

_Warning: subject brought up by target. Above all, stay calm. Nonchalant, even._ "What about yesterday?" Ginny asked with a suddenly squeaky voice. _Stay calm!_

The question seemed to throw Hermione off. The older girl put herself upright slowly and licked her lips. "When you… when you kissed me, I mean."

_Was Hermione embarrassed? Well, of course she's embarrassed, idiot. You kissed her. She's probably going to turn you down now. She's probably going to question your motives and try to wave it away like a minor incident. Nothing that you would want to happen again._ Ginny closed her eyes and took a deep breath. _Just try to stay calm._

"Oh, that." It was all the younger girl could think to say. Hermione was entirely too close all of a sudden.

"It was a little unexpected," Hermione continued. "Well… Very unexpected, to be honest." Her lips twitched into a smile, briefly, and it didn't reach the rest of her features. "I was just wondering why…. Why you would do something like that."

"I…" A million things were flying to her head, thoughts swimming in a whirlwind of other incidents when she had wanted to do it, when she had looked at Hermione and been taken aback by her beauty, when she had accidentally touched the other girl's skin and felt paralyzed with emotion and desire, when she had stayed up so many nights during the summer and wished for so many things, including for the older girl to look at her, just once, and caress her cheek with her hand. And now this girl was asking her why she had finally done something about her raging emotions, and every explanation, and every flowery speech of her feelings for Hermione, were leaving her head like sand between her spread fingers. "I don't know. I guess I…"

_Ginny Weasley, are you losing your nerve? _a voice came into her head, bitingly sarcastic and chiding. _You want this! You want her! Just let her know, and you might get what you want. She might want you, too. How can you really know, until you say something? Don't you dare give up this chance._

"I guess the heat did something to my head," she finally choked out. Tears stung in the back of her eyes. She slummed her shoulders into herself, and looked away.

Hermione felt something in her crash, like a fragile piece of glass hitting a marble floor. Something that seemed insignificant, but the shards resonated throughout her body and left her feeling empty. Like she had just lost something very, very precious. "I… I see," she replied, blinking in incomprehension. "Well… All right then." She tried to look chipper, and knew that she was failing horribly. "No harm done, right?" She didn't wait for Ginny to reply, but got out of bed and pulled on a random skirt from her pile of clothes. "I'm going to help your mum out with breakfast. I'm sure she'll appreciate the help. I'll… I'll see you at breakfast."

Footsteps, and then the door opened and closed. The sound echoed uncomfortably in Ginny's ears. It was in this sound that Ginny let the first tears fall.

_And it's all in my head..._


	3. Chapter Three: Fireworks

So! If you're here, thanks for bearing with me through these chapters. I know we're probably all frustrated with the fact that Hermione and Ginny aren't yet together. Well, here's another thing to make you upset with me. :grin: And I know I'm breaking fannon. If you really care that much, go ahead and flame me. But honestly, who says I can't make up my own?

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and affiliated characters, along with their settings and the construction of their world, does not belong to me. Suing will be met with many shed emo tears.

Unexpected

Chapter Three: Fireworks

Those last few weeks of summer went far too fast for Ginny's taste. Though normalcy still reigned at the Burrow, she felt like she was walking in a shadow world, observing reality with a clouded gaze. She felt the same that she had after that day in the Chamber of Secrets. Though she could smile and laugh, carry on mindless conversations, it was all running like a well-rehearsed script in her head. She had been cast as GINNY WEASLEY, YOUNGEST AND ONLY DAUGHTER; SHY, AMIABLE. She only told the audience what they wanted to hear.

Ginny couldn't tell if Hermione was doing the same or not. The older witch acted the same as she always had - at least, around Ginny's brothers and Harry. But around the redhead, now, it was as if something invisible had broken and scattered itself across a great distance. Every look they exchanged - and looks were rare - a barely contained _something_ rested in those amber brown eyes. But every time Ginny tried to analyze it, Hermione turned away, distracted by the breeze or the voice of the boys asking for help or audience for another mindless game. They still talked, though; there were still late night conversations over junk food, and there were still days where they sat in the sun and discussed their schoolwork (unlike her three most prominent brothers, Ginny enjoyed academics) and different literary works. But that sense of trust that she used to feel from Hermione felt nearly nonexistent, and try as she did to keep things the same, routines were slipping away like the sun under the horizon - slowly, but noticeably.

Still, the fact that Hermione was pulling away from her didn't bother her that much. After all, the reasoning behind her behavior was clear: how could things stay the same after something so unexpected?

Despite the fact that the sun warmed her back, Ginny still felt a cold chill of gloom sweep through her heart like a crow. The bird settled, like it always did, and scratched away at the good mood she'd been building up all day. Her father was going to set off Muggle "showers of stars" called fireworks (with the help of Harry and Hermione, of course) in celebration of their last weekend of summer. The next week before the anticipated train ride back to Hogwarts would be spent bustling around the house, finishing neglected assignments, searching for lost clothing and supplies, and then setting off to Diagon Alley for whatever new (or used, on the Weasleys' parts) oddities they would need for the upcoming school year.

She half-dreaded and half-longed for the dark, magical castle. Here, the summer days had become routinely broody and falsely optimistic; too often had she smiled without meaning it, only to keep up appearances. During the summer was the only time she always saw her brothers, the only time that what she was feeling really mattered to them. After all, she was just a little girl - for the most part, unwanted or considered unworthy for the boys' games. At school, she could disappear into the crowd, shuffle along from class to class, and only have to talk occasionally - usually to Hermione, or Harry, for a housemate of the same year. Ron cared about her, of course, but he was more often than not too caught up in idolizing Quidditch players or oggling cute girls.

And yet… She sighed, the wind rustling her hair slightly. The attention they did give her during the summer made her feel special. It was as if they all realized she existed, and were glad of it. The only other time they had treated her with such care was after Tom had tried to kill her.

And then there was Hermione…

She wasn't allowed the agonizing pleasure of thinking of the brainy brunette. A shadow was blocking the sunlight; she tilted her head back, and a quick count of the freckles told her it was Fred. Another glance told her that he was without his worse half.

Ginny patted the grass beside her with a curious and welcoming smile. Fred could always cheer her up, even when he was making fun of her freckles.

Fred took the offered plot and leaned back on his hands, seemingly admiring the scenery that had been a part of their lives forever. He looked almost nervous, like he was uncertain of his own skin and mind. Still, Ginny knew not to push a conversation out of him. It would only draw out the process of waiting for him to get to the point.

Finally, the boy spoke. "So, Gin," he said. The uncertainty reflected in his tone as well. "How have you been recently? You've been sneaking out here a lot."

The redheaded girl shrugged, moving to match his position. It was more comfortable than hugging her legs to her chest. "I've just wanted to be alone, is all," she replied indifferently. "I'm fine - honestly." She offered up a sweet smile to his cocked eyebrow.

His face relaxed a little. "Good, 'cause I need your advice," he started, sitting up in eagerness.

Ginny couldn't help but laugh. Every time he said that, it meant he had a crush on a girl and he wanted to know how to go about wooing her. "All right, Fred, who do you fancy?" she asked. A little bit of lightheartedness peeked its head tentatively inside her. Giving advice to the surprisingly clueless-about-girls Fred always ended up lifting her spirits.

Her older brother become typically embarrassed, clearing his throat a few times as if her name were caught there. "Well - it's - Hermione, actually," he confessed with some difficulty. His cheeks become tinted pink underneath his sunburn.

As soon as her name came out of his mouth, it was as if the sun had turned black. Ginny's vision faded. Her stomach sank deep into the earth and refused to be unburied. She wasn't sure how to react; she wasn't sure how she was reacting. Had she said anything yet? Was this really happening?

"Gin?" Fred asked, touching her shoulder. The pain of pressure on a freshly made sunburn jolted her mind out the swirl of darkness, into the dazzling realm of "yes, this is happening."

"That's a little unexpected," she said frankly. "Considering…"

"That I'm not usually attracted to the brainy types?" he finished for her, and grinned. "That's because they don't usually find me charming. And they're usually snots." He ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, and got an almost wistful look on his face. "She's easy to talk to, to be honest. Even though she acts like a know-it-all sometimes, she's rather willing to help out - and -" Fred chuckled a little at himself, and didn't say anything for a few minutes. Ginny had never seen him at such a loss for words. "Well, 'Mione sees past my charade. She knows that I'm smart. And I think that she might actually like me." He looked over at his younger sister and smiled sheepishly. "She's good friends with you. You probably know her better than anyone else. Do you think I should ask her?"

Ginny closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, they were wet, and turned towards the beginnings of sunset. They would start setting up fireworks soon, she reckoned. She knew that Hermione had taken a liking to Fred. It had become increasingly clear after the incident. But what mattered more to her: her happiness, or her brother's?

"What I would do," she said slowly, trying to keep the stinging of her eyes at bay, "is take her aside while Dad's shooting off the fireworks. Tell her what you told me, minus the know-it-all part." She smiled, albeit a little bitterly. "That way, the fireworks will create a more special atmosphere. It'll make her feel like you're not just playing with her."

Fred was grinning at her. All of a sudden, she felt his scrawny but strong arms around her small frame. "You're brilliant, Gin," he cooed, and tousled her hair. "And don't stay out here for very much longer," he warned, standing. "Otherwise, Mum'll throw a fit."

He waved as he departed. Ginny waved back and then turned to watch the sunset again. It was fitting, she thought. She felt like she was sinking; she was the sun.

Ginny returned when calls for dinner erupted from the house. Hermione offered the younger girl a smile, and Ginny returned it without meeting her gaze. She didn't want to think about what was going to happen later that evening.

For a while, the philosophy of simply forgetting it worked. She blocked the conversation out of her head; she even played a few games of chess with Ron, and exchanged laughs with Harry. While she had been in her slump, she had forgotten how much she enjoyed conversations with the dark-haired boy. Now that she was seeing more of him outside of school, her hero worship mentality was fading.

They were talking about Quidditch again (a popular subject, no matter who her company was of the male gender), but Harry didn't get worked up about it like Ron - Ron who would start throwing things at the mere mention of anything Quidditch. The ex-Gryffindor Seeker preferred to talk tactics to his young fire-haired replacement. And, of course, she asked him plenty of questions - like how to pull off his more stylistic broom moves in order to score the elusive Golden Snitch. He even let her borrow his Firebolt a few times (under close supervision) in order to practice, though she of the power was lost in her ten-year-old hand-me-down from Percy (who had only ridden it once or twice before giving it her; he wasn't much for flying).

They were in the middle of a discussion about the variations of the Wronksi Feint when Mr. Weasley burst into the house, his arms overflowing with brightly colored tubes. The glint in his eyes and the wide, toothy grin he displayed told her what they were: the fireworks.

With some concern, Ginny noted, Harry jumped up from his position on the living room floor to help him out. Together, they carried them out to the backyard and put them in a neat pile.

"What do they mean by 'matches'?" came Arthur's voice clearly from outside. Ginny saw Hermione politely hide an amused smile behind her hand, and nearly melted from the cuteness of the gesture. "What is it supposed to match?"

"No, no, Mr. Weasley," Harry replied, voice becoming more anxious. "A match - it's a stick of wood with sulfur at the tip that Muggles use to create fire."

"Positively fascinating!" Arthur exclaimed. It took him a few moments to shake off his awed expression before he could return to the task at hand. "Right! Considering we're lacking in these fire-sticks, we'll have to rely on good ol' magic. Ready to go, Harry? Is it dark enough?"

The sky had taken on the dusky indigo of early night. Stars had already poked through the blue, and their gentle twinkling promised a brighter display. As the rest of them joined Harry and Mr. Weasley outside, Ginny wondered if they would be envious of the false stars they would be creating.

Everyone collected a firework from the pile, as well as blankets, and started trekking toward the open field. Harry and Hermione had both agreed that setting some mounds of grass on fire would be better than their house.

Coincidentally, the spot they chose was the same that Ginny had been using as a getaway location. Harry had made sure to go over the instructions of how to set the fireworks off with Mr. Weasley during the walk. Within a few minutes, blankets were laid out on the grass, and Mr. Weasley was setting off the fireworks by sending a simple fire spell toward the fuse at the top.

The sight was amazing, bright fizzing sparks in blue, purple, and green, throwing light over the entire world. Ginny felt her mouth fall open in awe; how could Muggles create something so beautiful and not have used magic?

Hermione came to stand next to her as the second firework blossomed over their heads. The white and red lit up the older girl's face, and Ginny felt the same nervousness of that summer day creep into her stomach. Unbidden '"what-if's" meandered across her thoughts.

It wasn't until the fourth, a magnificent display of gold and red, that Fred sneaked up beside Hermione. Ginny heard his mumbled words and her distracted reply. She tried not to notice when they slipped away, instead trying to focus her attention on the falling false stars and how they lit the night sky on fire.

The two returned again in what seemed like forever. The last firework, green and blue and white, was just fading into nothingness. But they still managed to reflect in Hermione's eyes - and illuminate her and Fred's linked hands. Even during the moments of darkness between the fireworks and a few Lumos spells, the sight still embedded itself in her memory and left her feeling sick.

_How did it end up like this?_


	4. Chapter Four: Realizations

I'd just like to say thank you to the reviewers for making me feel insanely special. For a first fic, I wasn't really expecting much turnout - but my expectations were definitely fulfilled, twofold. And thanks especially to Jezebel, for consistently nagging at me to post and write more - not just on the reviews, but also on the phone, and on my blog, and when we hang out… She's the real motivation behind this writer. So no more thanking me - go thank Jezebel Malice!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and affiliated characters, along with their settings and the construction of their world, does not belong to me. Suing will be met with many shed emo tears.

Unexpected

Chapter Four: Realizations

Hermione shut her trunk with a thud and rested back on her legs, glad to be finally finished with packing for school. As usual, trying to combine a decent amount of clothing with the number of books she wanted to bring in one trunk had caused some frustration, and a good deal of rearranging and cramming. She was once again happy for magic - it meant she wouldn't have to lug it around herself.

Though she was sure Fred would have been happy to do so for her. Since she had agreed to be his girlfriend of sorts, the joke-cracking redhead had turned into a ridiculously charming gentleman. He walked her up to Ginny's room to say good night, he brought her her books and dishes, and felt the need to endlessly let her know how wonderful she was - a concept she was unwilling to believe, but she let him think whatever he wanted to. They had only been dating for a few days; the idea hadn't quite settled in her brain. Her and Fred? Really? It still seemed like she was hearing the story from someone else.

"Hey, 'Mione." Fred's still nervous voice interrupted her musings of him. "Almost done? Mum wants us all to sit 'round and talk before we set off."

She nodded and smiled at him, feeling a blush creep on her cheeks. "Yes, I just finished. What does she want to talk about?" she asked, getting a bit worried. "Did you… tell her?" The thought made her nervous, though she wasn't quite sure why. Shouldn't she want the Weasley's to know about her and Fred?

"Nah, but Mum tends to pick up on those types of things," he replied with a shrug. "It's like when Percy started dating Penelope - Mum knew immediately, even though he didn't tell anyone for at least two months. She's got ears and eyes like a hawk."

Hermione grinned, knowing full well the extent of Molly Weasley's sleuth skills. She and Ginny, in summers previous, had bonded by playing small practical jokes on Ron, mostly when he was sleeping. The twins were usually blamed, of course, but Molly had always given Hermione and Ginny amused glances during breakfast, as if she had known all along who had really committed each act.

"Besides," Fred continued, "it won't be too terrible with the family knowing, right? We go to school with most of them, anyway."

"I suppose you're right," Hermione replied, though the reluctant feeling still stayed in her stomach.

He must have been her slight discontent in her face, because he came closer to her and encircled her in his arms. She let herself sink into him a little, disregarding the small bit of resistance she had as new relationship awkwardness.

"Mum loves you already," he murmured, warm breath stirring her hair gently. "Hell, she'll probably love you more now that we're a couple. It's a mum-type reaction to get excited about that sort of thing."

As soon as he said it aloud, she knew that that wasn't what had her so upset. Yet she pulled away with a reassuring smile anyway, knowing just as clearly that it was what she was supposed to do.

Yes, indeed, the family discussion was an interrogation. Hermione watched Fred's cheeks become redder than his hair and knew that her coloring was probably just as vibrant. The Weasley's and Harry found it quite amusing, but accepted it with bright smiles - and about a thousand hugs on Molly's part. Hermione couldn't help but think that perhaps she had gotten herself into a lot more than just a relationship with a wisecracking redhead who was ridiculously charming. She smiled amusedly at herself as they all started to stand and prepare to take Floo Powder to Diagon Alley - why could she see Molly start trying to call her parents on a telephone?

But her smile faded as soon as she saw Ginny. The younger girl looked defeated and faded; it was as if a fire had extinguished itself in her normally bright eyes. Hermione felt a wave of guilt and, to her surprise, found that it matched the reluctance that had never really left her.

Their eyes met, and Ginny sent her a small smile that didn't reach any farther than the corners of her lips. "I'm happy for you," the girl said gently. Her tone was flat and made Hermione's heart sink.

_But why does it matter?_ Hermione asked herself. Her sudden confusion and uncertainty was frustrating, yet she couldn't will it away - not while she felt herself falling into that ocean of blue, and realized that she had never, never felt like that around Fred - or anyone else.

_It's just because I haven't given him a chance yet,_ she told herself. _We just started dating a few days ago - things shouldn't feel like that yet._

Hermione pulled her eyes away and brushed her hair out her face, feeling warm and flustered. "Thanks," she faltered, and managed a shaky smile. "I - I have to get something from upstairs… tell your parents I'll be right there."

Ginny made an obliging noise and walked off to the living room. Hermione felt like she was walking in a dream. She barely felt her legs moving as she went up the stairs to Ginny's room.

_Why couldn't things be simple?_ She paced the room, hands tugging at her tangled brown hair. Revelations, for her, had always come a few seconds late, just past the point of being able to do anything about them. Though in her life, she had never come across a revelation that would so greatly affect so many people. She'd never realized something that would cause her so much pain if she did nothing to make it come to be.

The look in Ginny's eyes, the quick heat of lips on her mouth… Why couldn't they have evoked feelings earlier? Why now, when she had just agreed to be with someone else?

"This is rather ridiculous," she said softly to herself. She rubbed her face with her hands, as she felt tears well in her eyes. "Absolutely ridiculous and completely unexpected."

She tried to ignore the nagging voice in her head that told her she _had_ felt something before for the younger girl, and that she had wanted to do something about it before. But fear of the unknown, the unsure, caused dismissal, caused denial, caused repression. The list of emotions went on and on and she couldn't help but feel the weight of them all at once, tearing away at her brain.

There was a timid knock on the door; Ginny stood in the doorway, looking shy and hesitant. As if she were intruding on someone else's room, instead of her own.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Hermione said, and found that her voice had become paper-thin. "I'm taking too long. I'll be right down." The room suddenly became too warm. She felt overwhelmed by Ginny's presence, even though the girl looked so small and fragile.

Ginny smiled ruefully and shook her head. "George said something inappropriate and is currently receiving an earful," she explained. "We won't leave for another ten minutes." The younger girl paused for a few moments, seeming unsure of herself. Hermione's heart started beating faster in anticipation - for what, though? she couldn't help but ask herself. What was she waiting for?

"…You all right?"

Hermione blinked wildly and saw Ginny looking expectantly over at her. She was afraid that she had completely blocked the redhead out while she had been thinking, until she spoke again. "I thought that people were supposed to be happy when they became involved in relationships," Ginny mused, looking directly at the older girl. "Instead, it seems to have made you sad. If Fred makes you sad, why are you with him?"

"Fred doesn't make me sad," Hermione replied quickly. She gathered her hair in her fists again and tried to think of what to say. What _could_ she say? How could she dare to say anything? "He's wonderful." She sighed and closed her eyes. Fred _was_ wonderful. "It's just…"

"What?" asked Ginny innocently, bluntly.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. She forced it down and took in another one. "I just realized that there's someone else that I want, though."

There was silence in the room for a while, the type that encompasses everything in fragile glass. Inside, Hermione was screaming for it to be broken.

_Say something, Ginny,_ she pleaded mentally, biting down hard on her bottom lip.

Silence for a few more minutes, and then:

"Who?"

Hermione opened her eyes and couldn't help but smile. "It's you."

_Coming out of my cage and I've been doing just fine._


	5. Chapter Five: Falling into Passion

Hello again! I don't have much to say, besides thank you once again for the nice reviews. Hope you enjoy this chapter, though you might want to read it with caution: there's definitely naughty stuff here. If you don't like naughty stuff, or if you think naughty stuff between two girls is especially naughty (why are you here, then? jeesh), then you might want to skip the last part of this chapter. But if you like naughty stuff, especially with two girls, then you're in the right spot and I hope it's up to your expectations. :grin: Enjoy.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and affiliated characters, along with their settings and the construction of their world, does not belong to me. Suing will be met with many shed emo tears.

Unexpected

Chapter Five: Hunger

Were those words really coming from those lips? Lips whose smile was wavering every so slightly, lips that were dry from nerves. And traveling up her face, Ginny could see bright amber-brown eyes, pupils dilated. It was the same look that Hermione had given her right after she had kissed her. She was a little surprised to see it again.

Something that felt like an air bubble rushed into her brain and made her feel lightheaded. She sagged a little and reached for the chipped paint wall for support and drew in some shaky breaths.

Hermione got a worried look on her face, and she reached out for the girl hesitantly. "Ginny…?"

Ginny swallowed and realized she was shaking and her knees were weak. Wasn't this what she had been waiting for? Why couldn't she move? Why couldn't she speak? The emotions inside her were too overwhelming to comprehend; it was as if the world had begun to spin twice as fast as usual and she was still trying to hold onto the old rules of gravity. If she moved, she would be swept away to somewhere uncertain, to a place where the stars were always shining different colors and the hands that clutched each other awkwardly weren't Hermione's and Fred's, but Hermione's and Ginny's.

It did scare her a little now. She'd let herself give up hope little by little after the first failed confrontation. The last few days had been a blur, metaphorically and literally - her eyes had been in a constant teary state. Thankfully, no one had bothered to look at her too closely. But considering the events of the past few days, how could this be real? How could Hermione be only a few feet away, standing so expectantly, eyes shining just like that, and be reality?

"What about Fred?" Ginny asked slowly, trying to shake off the tremble in her voice.

Hermione sighed and frowned guiltily. "When he pulled me away during the fireworks, I didn't know what to do," she replied. "Saying yes didn't seem like it would be too bad; after all, Fred's a gentleman when he wants to be." Ginny smiled faintly at that. Hermione returned it in faithful imitation and didn't speak for a few moments, gathering her thoughts to her like birds into a cage. "Ginny… When you kissed me a few weeks ago, I was surprised - naturally," she added, and her smile grew a little, albeit nervously. "But I didn't mind it. In fact, I'm sorry that I froze up. The truth is, Gin, I'd been disregarding those kinds of feelings for you out of fear."

She hesitated for a moment before she stepped closer to her, close enough to hear her intake of breath. Ginny's breath caught in her throat and her heart started pumping uncomfortably fast and hard in her chest, like an old, booming drum. She felt Hermione's warm gaze examine her face, her eyes taking in the litter of freckles across her cheeks and nose and trying to figure out how deep her eyes went. Ginny met and held her eyes, and found that her eyes weren't exactly amber; they were more the color of dark honey with flecks of darker brown around her pupils. Hermione smiled at her, and she felt her lips tug upwards to match it.

"The truth is, Gin," Hermione continued softly, "that I love you." She reached up with a shaking hand and pushed Ginny's hair away from her face.

Maybe it was this simple contact that wrenched sense back into her brain, brought her back to the moment and made her realize that the world was the way it was supposed to be. Ginny became aware of the warmth of Hermione's fingertips as they brushed against her ear, of the goose bumps that rose on her skin after that brief touch. Those words echoed inside her, flew through her veins like technicolor butterflies that tickled the sides of her heart and stomach. They made warm tears slip from her eyes, but not for heartbreak - for the healing of a wound that had been open for far too long.

"Oh, god, Ginny," Hermione said, eyes becoming sad. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Ginny didn't let her finish. With sleek precision, her arm snaked around Hermione's waist and drew her closer to her, the other hand reaching up to caress the girl's soft, lightly freckled cheek. Ginny smiled, just a twitch of the lips, before she leaned in close and took Hermione's lips with her own.

Hermione was taken by surprise again, but within a moment Ginny felt the pressure of her lips against hers and refused to let go. It was shy at first, a toe in the water to test the temperature. But they soon fit into a rhythm and invited each other in; their tongues introduced themselves and became good friends. Ginny felt a slow growing heat in her abdomen and pawed gently at Hermione's hip. The brown-haired girl moaned lightly into her mouth and entangled her fingers more in Ginny's hair.

"Girls! Girls, we're leaving!"

Molly Weasley's voice traveled up the stairs and broke the spell they had cast over each other. Hermione pulled her lips away and looked at Ginny with hooded eyes, sending a shiver up her spine. They stood there for a few moments, breathing heavily and loosely holding each other.

"Did you mean that one?" Hermione asked huskily, licking her swollen lips.

Ginny smiled and ran a hand through her hair, marveling at its silkiness. "I meant it the first time, too," she replied. "I was just too scared to tell you." She took a deep breath and looked the older witch in the eyes, smile fading into seriousness. "I love you, too."

It felt so good to say it aloud, even better to see Hermione's face break into a bright and shining smile. They kissed again briefly before Hermione pulled away. Ginny pouted at her, but the older girl simply smiled.

"Your mother may be a good detective," Hermione told her, "but we don't want to give her any clues - not just yet."

Ginny nodded. Nothing worried her just now. Her brain was still fuzzy from Hermione's lips on hers and the lava that warmed her just between her hips. Maybe, just maybe, something could be done about that - later.

For now, the two girls walked down the steps, Hermione leading the way, and one after the other, they went to Diagon Alley.

…

The family returned to the Burrow just at sunset, the orange and pink sky making their house look like a dream world. It had been a good afternoon, full of laughter and jokes and sunny weather. They had seen many of their school friends at Diagon Alley as well, and had enjoyed a brief round of butterbeers with Neville and Seamus after their final purchases had been made.

Hermione acted the same as she always had about Ginny, which had confused and hurt her for only a few moments before realizations hit her and she understood. Of course they had to act normally - not only would it hurt Fred, but she also didn't know how her mother or her family would react to the news.

Ginny had never told them that she was attracted to girls. Perhaps it was because of the incident with Tom Riddle - though she had certainly had doubts about her sexuality beforehand as well - but she had no desire to be with a boy. The female body had always been so much more alluring, fuller and softer looking. She'd never thought a lot about it. It seemed natural to her, after all. She wondered how Hermione felt about it. Was she scared? How long had she known? She wanted to ask her, pull her away from Fred for a few moments to make sure that this was real. But she waited patiently, keeping the thoughts of their kiss and Hermione's words at the forefront of her mind to keep her doubts at bay.

They idled in the living room for a while; George and Harry comparing wizards cards while Hermione and Fred talked lightly together. To distract her from the older girl, Ginny asked Ron for a game of Wizard's Chess. He beat her five times in a row.

When the clock struck ten o'clock, Molly came in the room from the kitchen with her hands on her hips. "What do you think this is, an all-night party?" she chided. "Get yourselves to bed! I won't have us being late in the morning for your train because you were too silly with excitement to get any sleep."

"It is rather late," Hermione agreed, and stood. The others followed suit, George and Fred grumbling about the constraining ideas that society had of time. Hermione smiled at him and kissed his cheek, making him blush. "Goodnight," she told him, and repeated to the other boys, before she looked over at Ginny. "Shall we?"

There was something in her tone of voice that made her heart skip, but she knew she was the only one who noticed. Ginny nodded and said her goodnights before following the older girl up to their room.

The door closed behind them and Hermione's lips were on hers again, arms encircling her lithe frame. Ginny gasped into her mouth and quickly matched her intensity, hands roaming over the older girl's body and pulling at fabric, teasing bare skin. She felt a hunger she had never felt before, and the more they kissed, the greater that hunger became.

" 'Mione," she whined lightly, pulling away to paw at the girl's chest. Hermione gave her a questioning look, eyes glazed over a little. "I'm hungry."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow, grinning. "For what, Ginny?"

The redhead shrugged, running a thumb over Hermione's breast through her shirt. The girl's eyes widened in surprise briefly. "I don't know."

She looked up at her from beneath her eyelashes and smiled coyly. Her smile was quickly wiped away, however, when Hermione grabbed her around the waist and, in a fire of passion that put the last few minutes to shame, pulled them towards the bed.

They crashed into the bed and Hermione's hand was up her shirt, tracing and lightly clawing at the sensitive flesh of her breasts. Ginny moaned lightly and licked at Hermione's neck, intertwining their legs to bring them closer. She found her thigh between Hermione's legs; with a wicked thought she squeezed it into the older girl's pelvis, emitting a gasp from the older girl - who retaliated by doing the same. All the while, their lips and hands roamed over each other, clothes tugged at teasingly but not quite peeled away. Finally, however, the older girl growled in impatience and pulled the soft blue material of Ginny's tank top over her breasts; Ginny complied and lifted her arms to remove it fully, then moved to peel off Hermione's black top. They moved like that, taking off each other's clothes, until they were down to simply their panties.

A sudden nervousness seemed to take both of them over. They lie there and held each other, warm breath against each other's necks and bodies still entangled. Ginny tried to swallow and found her throat and mouth dry; her blood was pumping fast again, all seeming to pool between her legs. The beating of Hermione's heart underneath her hand confirmed the girl was feeling the same way.

"I love you, Ginny," Hermione whispered in her ear.

Ginny smiled and kissed her nose, looking her into her eyes deeply. "I love you, too," she replied. She realized that of all the things that she had done or said or thought in her life, she was the most certain about this. The thought scared her a little - but she knew it was worth it.

They didn't talk for a while. They stared into each other's eyes, taking in color and shape and emotion. And then, almost as if it were an unspoken agreement, their lips met again and they fell into their passion once more.

They teased each other; they explored each other's bodies. Tongue and teeth and mouth and fingertips made Ginny's head feel fuzzy, made her eyes roll back in her head and her back arch. Their eyes met again and their panties ended up on the floor. Ginny stroked milky thighs and trailed her fingers up to slick flesh, making Hermione gasp and moan into her shoulder and mouth as they kissed. Her hips moved with Ginny's fingers as they explored her most sensitive areas, teasingly dipping inside of her before going back to playing with the small nub of nerves just above.

Hermione's body shuddered and squirmed against hers. Finally, it tensed and she let out a strained moan before her body went limp. Ginny pulled her wet fingers away slowly and then gathered the girl into her arms, kissing her sweat-covered brow gently. Hermione smiled up at her, a drugged look to her eyes.

Ginny looked down at her and smiled, overwhelmed again by the amount of feelings and thoughts running through her head. "You're so pretty," she told her, the back of her hand caressing her cheek lightly.

Hermione blushed and cast her eyes down briefly. "Thank you," she mumbled. "You are, too. And no arguments," she added as Ginny was about to retort.

The younger girl just sighed in response and smiled down at her. "Thank you, then."

They kissed again, gently for a while, then growing hungry again. Ginny's body was on fire, begging to be touched. Hermione could tell and complied, her fingers trailing paths of hot lava down her body before going for the source of Ginny's being.

The sensation hit her like a wave. She gasped sharply, eyes growing wide before shutting almost violently. She'd never been able to touch herself like this. Hermione's fingers rubbed and stroked her sensitive flesh with a speed that both tantalized and satisfied. The back of Ginny's head felt fuzzy and soft, and her thighs refused to stop quivering.

Suddenly she felt the flick of Hermione's tongue across her nipple; she gasped, but the feeling quickly disappeared. She opened her eyes to find the older girl trailing kisses down her body, kisses that felt like fire. Hermione looked up to meet her gaze, just below her bellybutton.

"Is this all right?" she asked her shyly.

It took her half a moment to realize what she meant. It was hard to think straight when a girl's mouth was only inches away from your crotch. Ginny looked back at her and nodded slowly.

Hermione smiled back at her in response and continued down, skipping over the mound of pubic hair to kiss the insides of her thighs. Ginny whimpered lightly, her body feeling like it was ready to explode with heat. Hermione ignored it for a few more moments, running her tongue and fingernails across the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, before the older girl licked teasingly between her legs.

The effect was immediate. Ginny inhaled sharply, and was only just recovering from the spark of the fire inside her brain when the assaulting muscle returned, flicking across the same area her fingers had been playing with earlier. But unlike her fingers, this feeling was like white-hot lightning through her veins. She dug her nails into the bed, entangled her fingers into Hermione's hair. Her breathing became sharp and littered with barely-contained moans, as she was driven closer and closer to the breaking point.

She couldn't tell how much time had past. She could barely remember her own name. Her body had disappeared as wave after wave of heat overtook it, agonizing for the sweetness of release…

And when it finally came to her, her body arched and returned only to remind her that it was still there before it crashed and fell away again, leaving her there floating somewhere in an ocean of warmth. But she wasn't there alone. There was Hermione, slinking up over her body. There was Hermione, lips on hers gently, comfortingly, and tasting of her.

"I love you," Ginny told her, groggy and lightheaded.

Hermione encircled her in her embrace and held on tightly. "I love you, too, Ginny." She kissed her forehead.

They lay there like that, wrapped in each other's arms and reveling in the afterglow. Ginny could only remember thinking that this was the happiest she had ever been before she drifted off to sleep.

_Open up my eager eyes…_


	6. Chapter Six: Midnight Kisses

And here I bet you thought you'd never hear from me again. Tsk, tsk, of course I'd come back and update! I'd just like to take the time to clear up one issue that came up in a review: yes, I know I never specified their ages, but that's because I really didn't want to deal with book-canon because... because I didn't. So, in order to keep Fred and George in the story, we'll just hypothesize that Hermione is a fifth year and Ginny is a fourth year; that makes them sixteen and fifteen, respectively. Obviously I'm not going by the plot of the actual books, for the most part, though while writing this chapter I was having Quidditch problems, but I simply eliminated them completely from the story. So we're all good.

Unexpected

Chapter Six: Secrets

The late October air was meandering through the Gryffindor girls' dormitory like silk scarves over fingers. It was slightly chill, enough to motivate Hermione to look for a sweater - in a roundabout way. Her eyes never left the book that was spread out over her knees; her hands did the work of her distracted vision, and found something soft with sleeves. It was only after sticking her arms through and pulling it close around her neck that a familiar scent settled in her nose, one that made her smile and skip carelessly over an entire passage.

There wasn't a specific way to describe it. It was cinnamon, or maybe nutmeg, or perhaps a field of lilies. A combination of smiles, letters, whispers, fingertips, smooth skin all rolled into a single girl, who left her mark not just on her clothes, but on Hermione's heart. Of course she would have to have chosen a sweater of Ginny's in the middle of studying. Hermione looked away and down at the pages of black text that wouldn't hold any meaning to her for the time being. She gently placed a bookmark between them and closed the thick volume with a lazy thud, the faded engraved letters looking up at her sulkily. No one else had been able to steal her attentions away from her books and studies; Merlin only knew how many times Fred had come pawing only to get let down by distracted eyes and an absent mind. He and George were more than likely too busy with Lee Jordan coming up with who knows what other products for their perspective joke shop, though she had a feeling he'd try to talk to her later…

Troubled thoughts appeared and overshadowed the vast meadows that represented Ginny in her head. The dark clouds rained softly on her brain, and she sighed to create the wind that would drive it across the sodden grass, that would come up with the thought process that had plagued her in the last few weeks. It had only been a month (which always felt so surprising, so surreal) since that day with Ginny in the Burrow, and it had not stayed there. The love they shared had only followed them on the same train to Hogwarts, and had led them to sneaking away from opening ceremonies early to drive each other to ecstasy again before the feast. The love they had admitted to had only come and driven them to visiting each other at night, in the afternoon on the days that their teachers decided the day was too lovely to waste on studying, the weekends that weren't overstuffed with Quidditch and bookwork. It had come between their sheets that had both learned how to keep secrets. It had come in corridors that were not searched or used by students and even teachers. It had come by the lake during a study session… The incidents stretched across time and emptied into a pool of memories in her head. In fact, she thought with a blush, they had planned on being together again that night - at midnight, on the dot, just in Ginny's bed. But to the both of them, it would feel like another world. Another world that couldn't be reality.

It was that part that made the dark clouds come and rain on their parade. The fact that it was all a secret, a sneaking-kisses-in-the-dark-did-anyone-see-us? kind of love. They passed notes in the hallways and stayed at safe distances away from each other in the Gryffindor commons room. They sneaked out of one another's beds at just before dawn to make it seem like they had spent the entire night there, just to stumble out of bed only an hour or two later to greet another day of classes, another day of sneaking around and acting like they were still the same, still separate entities. All because Hermione was too afraid to say anything to Fred.

Her mind was threatening to overwhelm her with emotions and thoughts when a redheaded girl walked through the dormitory door and brought them all to an abrupt halt. She was small, maybe only five feet three, with a lithe fragile look about her. Her hair seemed to absorb the sunshine and glow around her face, the tendrils of red brushing along her collarbone. She had dressed plainly for the weekend in a pair of darkly dyed jeans and a baby blue t-shirt with a certain baggy quality to it that told Hermione it had come from one of her brothers. A sweatshirt hung limply from her grasp, though she seemed to shiver after a few more steps into the dorm room and pulled it on unceremoniously.

Hermione didn't know what it was, but something about Ginny Weasley always made her catch her breath. Ginny knew it, too. Once she noticed Hermione in the room, watching her, a shy but pleased smile crept onto her face and stayed there while she breached the distance between her and Hermione's bed. Hermione patted a spot next to her twice; Ginny gladly took the spot and, with a look around to make sure no one else was there, kissed her lightly.

"Hi," Ginny said simply when she pulled away, and hid her face theatrically.

Hermione grinned, feeling a blush rise on her cheeks. "Hi," she couldn't help but reply back, and put her hands over Ginny's, tugging them away from her face. The girl complied, revealing a bright smile. "I missed you."

Ginny nuzzled her head against Hermione's chest and mumbled something along the lines of "I missed you, too." They sat there together for a while, mumbling sentences at each other in a loose embrace, kissing whenever they felt brave enough. It was a rare occasion that they had the dormitory to themselves, though hardly anyone went to their beds this early in the evening. It was only just an hour past dinner; everyone was either outside enjoying the last of the sunshine or in the commons or library doing homework.

Their faces were only an inch or two apart. Ginny's lips spread into a smile, and Hermione could feel her lips curling upwards to match it. She felt so light around this girl, this girl who had captured her heart and never let go of it. And all of a sudden, staring into the brilliant blueness of her eyes once again, Hermione felt overwhelmed by the happiness that swelled in her.

"I love you, you know," she said softly like a revelation.

Ginny's smile only grew. "I know." A few seconds passed before she added, "I love you, too."

Hermione grinned, but it was quickly replaced with a panicked look as she heard the dormitory door open. She pulled away and swiped a hand across her mouth, feeling both ashamed of her reaction and that she had to react in that way at all. One glance at Ginny's hurt and disappointed expression only made her feel worse.

"It's okay, you know," Lavender Brown said. The two girls looked at her incomprehensively. Hermione felt her throat constrict in panic. What was she talking about?

Lavender smiled, brushing brown hair away from her face. "Sorry if I caught you by surprise. I always had a feeling you two had something going on. My bed is right next to yours, Hermione, after all," she addressed the Gryffindor prefect with a tiny smirk. "And I'm a light sleeper." Before Hermione could stammer out an excuse or apology, Lavender continued. "Don't worry - I'm not going to tell anyone. Why would I, considering I know what you're going through?"

Hermione's classmate blushed; a look of comprehension dawned on Ginny's face. "You and Parvati?" she asked incredulously. "But you seem so - so -"

"Straight?" Lavender supplied for her, and laughed to herself. "So do you two. Appearances can be deceiving. But if you're going to continue the way you are, you might want to work a little harder to keep yours up."

Hermione felt worry worm its way into her belly. "There hasn't been any gossip, has there been? I mean, no one else suspects?"

Ginny tensed next to her and, with a moment's hesitation, took Hermione's hand in hers. Hermione squeezed back and held it in hers, heart beating fast in her chest.

"No, not as far as I know," Lavender reassured them, and they both sighed in relief. "Just be careful - especially considering you're using a boy to cover up." Lavender whistled and shook her head in awe. "And Ginny's brother, no less…"

Another wave of guilt washed over Hermione. She swallowed down a haughty retort and simply squeezed Ginny's hand again. "I'm going to tell him soon," she told both Lavender and herself.

Lavender nodded, understanding. "Well, just be careful with that. And I'll be sure to keep my mouth shut about it, as long as you don't say anything about Parvati and me." She smiled, probably at the thought of the other girl. Hermione couldn't help but smile as well, knowing full well she got the same way when she thought about Ginny. "We've been together for a long time. I don't want this to screw up."

Ginny nodded and chimed in, "We won't tell. We don't want this to screw up, either." The redhead looked at Hermione and smiled. "Everything's going to work out."

Hermione returned her gaze and once again felt those butterflies in her stomach, the ones that told her she was in the midst of something wonderful. "Yes," she said, both to Ginny and Lavender, "yes, everything's going to work out."

Lavender regarded the two girls she had known for years, contemplating how their story unfolded. She wanted to ask, but that was a question for another time, she could tell. For now, she would leave them alone.

"I'll try to make sure no one gets up here for a while longer," she told them, knowing full well they were only half listening to her. "Just remember what I said about being careful." With that, Lavender grabbed some parchment from her trunk and took herself out of the dormitory.

"Were you serious, about telling Fred soon?" Ginny asked Hermione once Lavender was out of sight.

Hermione inhaled, as she felt the weight of her words rest on her shoulders, but not uncomfortably. "Yes, I was," she replied deliberately. A bright smile returned to her features as she took Ginny's face between her hands. "I want to be with just you, darling. I don't want to have to lie to him and hurt you anymore." She kissed her freckled nose, then her forehead, then her mouth. "Just be patient, okay? I need some time to think. I don't want to hurt him, you know. He's your brother, and despite his many flaws he's still a nice boy."

Ginny nodded, half-smiled. "I know. I remember when I saw you holding hands after the fireworks," she said softly. "I was really sad, but I wanted Fred to be happy. I thought you didn't want me, back then. But now that you do, I still want Fred to be happy, but I don't know what I would do without knowing that you loved me back." She paused for a while, but Hermione didn't reply as Ginny gathered her thoughts. "I just… I want to be with you so badly, Hermione. I don't know what to do with myself sometimes." She laughed a little and brushed a finger against the older girl's cheek. "I love you, Hermione Granger."

"I love you, too, Ginny Weasley." Hermione kissed the pad of Ginny's thumb, evoking another smile on the girl's lips. "More than you'll ever know."

Footsteps were traveling up the stairs. They separated with reluctant sighs, and when a group of second-years finally emerged through the doors, Ginny and Hermione were deep in discussion about the book that, consequently, lied suddenly open between them on Hermione's bed. Just friends once again.

11:55. Hermione could feel Ginny's frustration from across the room, probably because it matched hers perfectly. There was one more light in the dormitory, a second year obviously far behind on her homework - or simply trying to completely ruin Ginny and Hermione's midnight date. Though it was highly doubtful that it was a purposeful delay, Hermione couldn't help but be angry. After all, it had been nearly a week since the last time they visited each other at night, and she'd gotten her hopes up about that night. She wanted things to be perfect, or as perfect as things can be when one has to sneak into another's bed without saying anything above a whisper in an ear.

At least Lavender knew and wouldn't tell. Hermione smiled a little about that encounter. Knowing about Lavender and Parvati made Hermione feel a little more okay about her own situation. She had more confidence that things were going to work out, that she and Ginny were going to make it, too.

_I wonder if either of them had a boyfriend before they got together,_ she wondered to herself, twisting a lock of hair around her index finger. 11:56. _I'll ask Lavender the next time I see her alone or with Parvati. Maybe they can give me some advice._ She sighed and tried to keep it from turning into a yawn. _I just don't know how I long I'd be able to keep up the facade, anyway. It's difficult lying to Fred, and even harder seeing Ginny's expression every time I do something with him. Every time I kiss him makes me feel like I'm betraying Ginny, even though I'm technically betraying Fred with Ginny. _She closed her eyes for a minute, reciting the names of famous wizards in her head to keep her thoughts organized. _But is it betrayal to Fred if I'm in love with Ginny? Shouldn't it be love that measures the betrayal, not necessarily the person you're with? _Another glance at the clock: 11:58. Two minutes and the light still wasn't out.

She tried to catch Ginny's eye in the darkness but could only make out the shadows of the girl's body. Ginny laid in bed completely still except for her breathing and the occasional disgruntled change in position. Ginny wanted to move to Hermione's bed, she could tell. After all, she wanted Ginny in her bed as well. To be able to hold and touch Ginny without being too concerned about people watching (though now she was going to be far more self-conscious about people hearing them), sleep for an hour or two in each other's arms... Despite the risks and the pain of separation afterwards, it was worth losing sleep for.

11:59 and the candle extinguished. Hermione nearly cried out in relief, but instead, waited one more minute before waving Ginny excitedly. The young girl's face appeared from underneath blankets, and then the rest of her, and within moments, she was curled up in Hermione's arms.

"I thought she'd never go to sleep," Ginny complained under her breath to Hermione. "I was tempted to just jump on you from across the room."

Hermione nuzzled her nose into the redhead's hair. "I know what you mean," she mumbled back. "But I'm glad you're here now."

Ginny looked up at her and stared into her eyes, a light smile playing across her face. Hermione felt herself falling again into Ginny's eyes. "Me too," she said finally, and then captured Hermione's lips with hers.

The reaction in Hermione's body was immediate. Heat settled in her lower abdomen and spread throughout her body. Her mind became fuzzy, and all she could think about was the soft lips that were locked with hers and the body pressed against hers that she so badly wanted to touch.

She tugged up on Ginny's t-shirt and only took her mouth away to pull it over the girl's head. The anxious way that Ginny looked at her as she, in turn, pulled off Hermione's shirt told her she'd been anticipating this moment all day. Hermione smiled at her adoringly, feeling love swell in her heart, before obliging the cries from her mouth with another heated kiss.

The next hour or two became clouded, a blur of muted cries and naked skin becoming hot to touch and slick with sweat and cum, hair grasped between fists and bitten bottom lips. Vaguely, as Ginny was climaxing from the attentions of her tongue between her thighs, she could have sworn she could hear Lavender Brown chuckling lightly under her breath in her sleep...

They fell into a pile of intertwined body parts and held each other tightly as their bodies calmed. Hermione looked at the clock with blurred eyes: 3:00. Only an hour and a half more before Ginny would leave her. The thought made her hold onto the girl tighter.

"I love you, Ginny," she whispered into her neck, trying to keep back the tears that threatened to fall. She wasn't sure why she wanted to cry. It was probably a combination of the night's conclusion not too far off and the intensity of emotions that were threatening to consume her. Still, she didn't want to cry, she didn't want to ruin this moment of perfection, here in her lover's arms.

But Ginny pulled away from her and looked into her tear-filled eyes and smiled a bit sadly, and Hermione noticed that the younger girl's eyes were wet as well. "I love you, too." She kissed Hermione lightly, lips lingering enough to make Hermione's mouth tingle gently. "Everything's going to be okay," she told her, and kissed her forehead. "I promise."

Hermione nodded and kissed her back again, before settling back into their previous position. Exhaustion had finally appeared, and it was harder and harder to keep her eyes open. Ginny's breathing had become even and deep, and a look down at her closed eyes and slightly opened mouth told her that the girl was asleep. "I know," she told her sleeping form. "I promise, too."

It seemed that she had just closed her eyes when Ginny's eyes shook her awake, a look of sadness and desperation making her brow furrow and her mouth twist downward into a frown. Hermione looked from her face to the clock, and her heart sank. 4:25. Five more minutes until Ginny would have to leave her for her own bed.

The tears that had come before sleep had claimed them both returned full force, and this time Hermione didn't bother trying to hold them back. Her arms reached out for Ginny; the girl willingly fell back into her embrace and they held each other as they cried, both afraid of the loneliness that would consume them once 4:30 rolled around. "I hate this," she said, sniffling, into Ginny's shoulder. "I wish..."

"I know," Ginny replied. "Me, too. I hate leaving you. I hate that we have to.."

"I'm sorry." Her tears and sobs grew stronger, and Hermione was having trouble keeping them trapped in her throat. "I'm so sorry."

Ginny cradled her gently in her arms and rocked her back and forth, smoothing down her hair. "It's okay," she whispered soothingly. "It's okay, I understand.. Everything's going to be okay, I promise. Everything's going to be fine." She whispered this like a mantra until Hermione's sobs grew less violent. The older girl pulled herself out of her arms reluctantly and looked at the clock: 4:32.

"You - you have to go," Hermione told her blankly, then looked her in the eyes. "I love you."

Ginny gently stroked her cheek with her hand. "I love you, too."

Hermione felt her body go numb as Ginny left her bed, tip-toeing silently back into her own bed across the room. She saw Ginny blow her a kiss once she got there safely; Hermione waved gently in reply, then settled back into her pillow. The tears didn't stop until the sun rose in the sky, when she fell into a troubled sleep.

_Now I'm falling asleep..._


	7. Chapter Seven: Weeping Willow

This chapter was originally going to be longer because of the scene in the commons room, but I decided to break it off where it is now simply because it seemed like a good place to stop. Good rationale, ne? Don't fret, though - chapter eight is soon to follow; in fact, I have it half-written already. Thanks in advance (and again later, I'm sure) to Jezebel Malice with her help with the scene in chapter eight. She not only deserves it, but I know it embarrasses her to no end that I cite her in my author's notes.

Unexpected

Chapter Seven: Weeping Willow

It was dinner. The Great Hall was full of small explosions of laughter and conversation, and was well-lit with hovering candles, hanging like the stars that would come within the hour on the magicked ceiling, currently displaying the hues of the sunset. Ginny had looked up at them and immediately looked away, reminded that Hermione had compared her hair like the red at sunset, dark and fiery and glorious. Then, she had beamed and felt love swell in her heart, before laying another shower of kisses on her older lover. But now…

She looked only a few people away; the movement was only a shift of an eye and the slight tilt of the chin, and she could see it perfectly: Hermione, laughing, joking, smiling. With Fred.

The already-formed knot in her stomach gave another tug and grew harder. Her pumpkin juice stuck in her throat and an especially hard swallow was the only thing that put it down. She'd have a stomachache later, she thought, but forced herself to eat anyway. As always, keeping up appearances was more important than the jealous coils in her stomach and the knives of that smile slicing away at her heart.

Fred leaned in slightly and his lips came into contact with Hermione's cheek. Ginny felt hot jealousy on her cheeks, rising up in the form of a blush on Hermione's cheeks as the girl returned the peck with a shy bat of her eyelashes. But as she pulled away from his cheek, her eyes caught Ginny and gave her a sorrowful, powerful look. Ginny looked away, the pain inside too much to return any sort of longing gaze. Instead, she closed her eyes and tried to block the brunette from her mind, her sight, her life, if only for another hour.

She cast her eyes down to her plate and found it only half eaten. _I've had enough_, she thought to herself, and the food disappeared. _It's more than I ate yesterday, at least. _She murmured a goodbye those closest to her, a few animatedly-talking boys and a first-year girl hidden behind a book, all of whose names escaped her, and pulled her legs out from under the table so they could take her away from the noise and the bright lights.

She didn't want to go back to the common room. On a whim, she took the left corridor that led to a set of doors to the outside. She looked up at the clock - she still had an hour until her year's curfew. Plenty of time to pull herself together and return to the common room to pretend that everything was okay. With that resolved in her head, she pushed open the doors and let the half-shadows of dusk take her.

Ginny knew exactly where to go, to a weeping willow tree only five yards away from the castle walls, but grown in enough so the drooping branches would hide her from prying eyes. She had hidden there a few times before, when the act had become too much to take and she needed to escape from the pretenses of her existence.

_Why can't she love me?_ she thought to herself for the billionth time that day, that week, that month. _Why doesn't she want to be with me?_ She fell numbly to the ground at the trunk of the tree and curled her legs to her chest, hugging them tightly to her body. She hadn't thought about the hour or the time of the year, and the November air was chill and biting, and her uniform's thin white blouse and black skirt did little to block it out. Though, in her current state of mind, she wasn't sure if she wanted it to be. She closed her eyes and imagined herself slowly, slowly freezing to death out here, a pathetic little redheaded girl that wouldn't be found until morning, or maybe a few days. Maybe a week. She was invisible most of the time anyway - who would notice her gone?

_Hermione has Fred, Fred has Hermione,_ she thought darkly to herself, the bitterness leaving a foul taste in the back of her mind. _She keeps on saying she'll talk to him, she'll leave him for me, she'll stop pretending to love him… But who is she really lying to: him, or me?_

Darkness was mostly upon the school. She could see the twinkling of stars appearing between the mostly-naked boughs of the willow and the lights from the castle. The Great Hall was emptying at an exponential rate. Soon, the common rooms would be full of the same noises and sounds and goings-on as in the Great Hall. The habits of the hundreds of students never changed.

_I can't stand this anymore_. She hadn't noticed the tears from her eyes until the drops landed on her bare knee. She blinked, making more tears fall, and rubbed her nose with her sleeve. The sneaking around, the lying, the broken promises, were all piling up in her head and leaving her in this state constantly. Fred and Hermione had started sneaking off together from the common room to who knows where, doing who knows what, and every time they left Hermione gave her a brief, fleeting look, and a kiss on the forehead when she returned at night and thought Ginny was asleep. They were probably having sex, but she didn't want to think about that, not on top of the other thoughts flying around her mind because of the entire situation, she didn't want to feel that kind of betrayal, and she'd been too afraid to ask. How could she form that question? How?

Hermione hadn't talked to her in days besides random pleasantries in the hallways, a few exchanges in the common room while they did their homework and Fred and George talked with Lee Jordan and their plethora of admirers. Hermione hadn't asked Ginny to visit her in bed. Ginny couldn't seem to ever find the girl alone anymore. She was either with Harry and Ron, or Fred.

A clock chimed inside, reminding her of her curfew. She dragged her sleeve across her face again to wipe away the salty tear stains and stood, brushing dirt and dead leaves from her skirt. Her mask of indifference fixed back into place, she wandered back inside to the castle, back into the numb world where she wasn't anything at all.

The common room was just as she expected to be when she arrived: loud, rowdy, and including her twin brothers as the stars of the show. She ignored them, and she ignored Hermione, sitting there in her usual spot with a long piece of parchment and a book open in her lap, and chose to sit as far away from the girl as possible. Out of the corner of her eye, she could imagine Hermione's hurt expression, and couldn't muster to feel anything but the pain she'd been feeling constantly for the past week.

_You're doing this to me,_ she thought at her angrily. _You're doing this to me of your own free will. Don't you dare try to tell me I don't deserve to feel angry, or hurt, or upset._ She took out her wand and waved it vaguely at the girls' dormitory steps. "_Accio_ Potions homework," she muttered dully. Within moments, a Potions textbook, parchment, and ink and quill were in her grasp.

She threw herself wholeheartedly into her homework, an essay about the usage of dried bat wings in certain potions, and managed to fill up almost two feet of parchment when the requirement was only one and a half. She took it from every possible angle, every fine detail, until she was sure she could recite the entire thing in her sleep, only to keep herself occupied from looking at Hermione, throwing herself at the girl, begging for an explanation, a kiss, a public declaration of love, anything to prove that she cared…

"Ginny?" The voice was timid and quiet, as if afraid of being overheard. She recognized it immediately, and instead busied herself with rolling up her parchment. There was a moment or two of silence, and then she felt a hand on her open one. "Here."

Footsteps led away from her. Ginny looked down at her hand to find a scrap bit of parchment, crumpled, resting in the palm of her hand. She carefully smoothed it out, afraid to rip it, and read the note scrawled in Hermione's neat handwriting: _Meet me here at 3 a.m. We need to talk._

She closed her eyes and closed her hand around the parchment.

_Jealousy, turning saints into the sea._


	8. Chapter Eight: Broken Dolls

This was probably the most difficult chapter to write thus far, simply because of the intense emotions flying out every which way. It was definitely an outlet for me; I got a lot of bitterness and pain out by transferring it to the tragic couple. Thanks once again to Jezebel, who stayed on the phone with me for the duration of this chapter shouting dialogue ideas into my ear and keeping me writing, though I made myself emotionally exhausted by doing so. So, if you haven't already, go read her stuff! Go! Oh, and may I just ask because you all leave reviews: who DOESN'T torture Hermione and Ginny?

Unexpected

Chapter Eight: Broken Dolls

"You wanted to talk," Ginny stated simply as she settled into the chair across from Hermione. The fire was still going, crackling now and then, but the welcoming feeling she usually felt was gone. Its orange light was now harsh, casting strange shadows around the room and in Hermione's face. The brunette was sitting with her legs crossed, wearing one of Fred's sweaters and a pair of jeans, looking so fragile and uncomfortable that Ginny's heart couldn't help but ache for her love for the girl, despite the jealousy that currently reigned.

Hermione nodded, nervously curling strands of hair around her fingers, a habit, Ginny noticed, that popped up whenever she was uncomfortable or scared. The lump in her throat from earlier returned, threefold, and she was having difficulty breathing from the suspense.

"Ginny, I…" Hermione stopped and took a deep calming breath. Her hands were shaking badly and she wished she could disappear from view, crawl into the wall and never come out again, or just die on the spot, rather than hurt the one person that made her feel complete. _Just get it over with; you're most likely only hurting her more by delaying,_ she thought to herself. She caught Ginny's eyes with hers, a difficult task, considering the redhead seemed to be trying her hardest to avoid meeting her gaze, and started again. "Ginny, I slept with Fred."

It seemed so strange to say it aloud. The truth, lying exposed between them, changed the atmosphere of the room. The fire was dimmer, the air was cooler and thick with tension. The knives of Hermione's words were flying with pinpoint precision at Ginny's chest, lodging themselves into Ginny's heart and refusing to be pulled out again. What Hermione didn't know was that they had already been there, from days and nights of her mind twisting around the possibility of betrayal like snakes in tall grass, known of but, until now, unseen. Now they were at the hilts of the knives and pushing them in deeper, but she still couldn't quite believe it.

"You _what_?" Ginny was surprised at the harsh tones to her voice. Her voice and body shook with anger. She could tell that it both hurt and scared Hermione, but she didn't care. She was too hurt to care.

"I…" Hermione faltered, tears slipping from her amber eyes that were so hollow now, so open and exposed, but lifeless. "I'm so sorry, Ginny… I didn't know what else to do…"

There was a silence between them for a moment, as Ginny processed her words and Hermione tried to gather hers into some sort of explanation. But how could Ginny understand what she had been thinking? How could Ginny understand why she was still with Fred, why she had agreed to have sex with him, when she barely knew the reasons herself?

"When?"

Hermione had become so lost in her thoughts she had barely heard the girl. She looked over at her, feeling Ginny's pain wash over her body from those infinitely sad blue eyes that were swimming with unshed tears. "Four days ago," she whispered. "Saturday night. In his - in his bed. Girls are allowed in the boys' dormitory…" She was rambling; she immediately shut her suddenly dry mouth.

"Four days ago," Ginny repeated numbly. The snakes bit down and added their poison to the open wounds. Inside, she could feel her heart melting from their dangerous fangs, melting away into nothing. "Four days ago, it was four months since the day I kissed you and said I didn't mean it. But I wouldn't expect you to remember that. Considering you haven't noticed my existence for four days straight." Her anger was rising, and so was her voice. She didn't care if anyone woke up; Hermione deserved it if they were discovered here together. "Because you slept with my brother. And you said that you loved me. And you promised me that you would leave him, you would tell him the truth. You've been telling me that for three months, did you know that?" Her mind was screaming, her body was on fire from pain, as if she were being ripped apart from the inside from the knives and the snakes were slivering under her skin, and her thoughts took the form of snakes as well. "You've been lying to me," she choked, "all this time. Have you even loved me at all, Hermione? Or did you think that you would experiment a little, just to make sure that you weren't batting for the wrong team before you decided to have sex with my brother." She laughed hollowly, and it quickly turned into sobs that made her body shake; she hugged her knees to her chest, hating herself for believing everything Hermione had ever told her. Hating herself for loving this girl who had so willingly betrayed her trust and heart. Unbidden images of Hermione gasping under Fred's mouth and hands, her fingers brushing against his chest as he pulled off her robes flashed repeatedly in her head, drowning her.

"Of course I love you!" Hermione retorted, voice thick from swallowed tears. "How could I not?" She stood then, walking closer to Ginny, who only curled deeper within the chair. "Ginny, please," she sobbed at the younger girl, hands outspread in pleading, "Please, you have to believe me when I say I love you. I never meant for any of this to happen, but I… I didn't know what else to do, I didn't know what to do…"

"You could have said no!" Ginny shouted back, loud enough to convey her anger and stop the non-stop movie playing in her head. "You could have said anything, you could have even lied and said you weren't fucking ready yet, and he would have believed you! He loves you! Merlin knows that I've heard enough about how wonderful you are from him, how many times he's thanked me for telling him to ask you out in the first place." Months of bitterness were finally coming out of her mouth, and only grew stronger at Hermione's shocked expression. "What, he never told you?" she asked coldly. "He asked me for my advice if he should ask you out or not, the day after I kissed you. What was I supposed to say to him? No, that I was in love with you, that you were mine? You weren't responsive when I kissed you, I was scared, I thought you didn't love me at all." She choked again on sobs and couldn't speak, but Hermione didn't interrupt her. "I thought you didn't love me, so I told him to ask you out because I knew it would make him happy."

Hermione fell to her knees in front of Ginny, a look of surprise and disbelief on her face. She had never known; Fred had never told her about his conversation with Ginny, nor why he had asked her out besides how much he had admired her from afar. She felt the truth hit her chest like a flaming arrow, setting her mind on fire. If she had only told Ginny on that warm summer day in the field her feelings, this whole situation would have never happened. If she had only been strong enough to accept her feelings, everything would be okay now.

"I'm so sorry, Ginny," Hermione whispered, but Ginny cut her off.

"If you were so fucking sorry, then you wouldn't have done anything in the first place!" she shrieked, and found herself out of the seat, standing over Hermione imposingly. "You keep on saying that you're going to tell him soon - soon, for the past few fucking months! And I've just sat back quietly and let you tell me that you love me without any other proof than you sneaking into my bed or me sneaking into yours, a few comforting kisses on the cheek and the phrase 'I love you' the only thing I'm supposed to hang onto, while Fred gets to walk you to your classes, Fred gets to hold your hand, Fred gets to kiss you in public and tell you how pretty you are, and what do I get to do, Hermione? Sit back and watch it all happen and not even be able to tell you anything because it'll make you too sad and guilty to know how much you're hurting me inside every time I see you with him! I mean, what the hell am I to you, Hermione? Just a good fuck in the middle of the night? You don't even talk to me anymore! Are you afraid that someone might suspect and tell Fred, or he might be able to fucking figure it out himself just by seeing a few glances now and then pass between us?"

"It's not like that, Ginny," Hermione replied indignantly, crawling backwards across the carpet and using the chair behind her to help her stand.

"Oh?" Ginny cocked an eyebrow, hands balled into fists at her sides. "And what's it like then, huh? Explain it to me. I don't think I understand, Miss Granger."

Hermione hadn't felt anger towards Ginny up until that moment, when it blossomed in her like a wreath of flame, and without another thought, she let her mouth take her away. "Do you think it's been easy for me? Wandering around holding the hand of a person that I don't even love, knowing that I'm hurting the one person I actually care about by doing so, and knowing that I don't have the courage to do anything but continue hurting her, just because it's comfortable, it's natural, and I'm scared of the life that you could offer me, and I didn't think that you'd understand that." She rubbed her hands over her face, trying to wipe away her tears and the frustration with one swipe. "I didn't know how to tell you that I love you but I'm scared of the reaction I'd get from our classmates, of us being together, of me being anything but normal, because I'm already something they can make fun of behind my back, and being in love with you would just give them more reason to ridicule me for everything that I am. I didn't want to put myself through that, and I didn't want to put you through that, because I want to protect you with everything I am, Ginny, and I didn't know how else to do it but by hurting you." She stopped and gasped for breath, her sobs coming harsher and harder in her lungs. "I didn't want to walk down the halls and have people stare at me, wondering for how long I've been like this, wondering for how long you've been like this, judging us simply because they can, because that's all I've ever seen happen to people like us, and I didn't want to that to be the case at Hogwarts! You've never been to a Muggle school, you don't know how wrong it is to them out there, how unnatural and against what they are there, and if anything unnatural shows up in the Muggle world they try their hardest to squash it with words and actions and they don't care if they've known you all your life, they're still going to try break you."

"You thought I wouldn't understand? You thought that I wouldn't fucking understand?" Ginny's face turned the familiar shade of red Hermione had seen on the Weasley boys. "How fucking dare you ever think that I wouldn't understand? Do you think that I don't know? Do you honestly think that I'm not just as scared as you are? But unlike you, I'm willing to deal with their own misguided ignorance because I just want to be with you! I don't care if we get stared at; I'd be too busy gazing at you adoringly to notice, because that's what I've been doing for the past three years anyway, you've just been too blind to see me! All those nights stuck in bed with you and not being able to touch you or say anything out of fear of how you'd react, out of fear of my own feelings, and now we're standing here together and you're trying to tell me that I don't understand what it is to be afraid of who and what you are. And if that's what you really think, Hermione, then I'm not sure what the hell I was thinking in the first place thinking that you could be with me at all."

Hermione stared at her with wide, tear-blurred eyes and a gaping mouth, hands held up close to her face as if to fend off a physical blow. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Broken sentences hung in the air between them like stars, suspended in the blackened sky of silence that was only interrupted by the slowly dying fire. "But - but I love you, Ginny," she finally managed to choke out, sobs racking her body and forcing her slowly to the floor in a broken doll heap. "I love you… You have no idea how sorry I am, how much I wish I could make everything okay… I love you… Please… Please, don't leave me… I don't know what I would do without you…" She rocked back and forth, hearing Ginny's last sentence ringing in her brain over and over again. Her tears were hot and slipping into her mouth, making her lips dry from the salt. "I don't deserve you at all, but please… Don't leave."

Then all of a sudden there was the wetness of tears falling into her hair and warm, shaking arms wrapped around her body. Hermione turned her head upwards and saw Ginny's face, her eyes wide and dark, and white skin streaked with red splotches and trails of salt, and they kissed gently, without even thinking about it. It didn't matter that they were sobbing, that their lips were dry with salt and that snot was pouring out of their noses, that they had just screamed at each other for nearly two hours. They kissed, and when they pulled away, they saw the love reflecting in each other's eyes and knew that no matter what it wouldn't ever die.

"I'm not going to leave you," Ginny reassured her in a broken whisper. "I love you too much. It just hurts…"

"I know," Hermione whispered, and gingerly curled her arms around Ginny's waist. "I'm so sorry."

"I know."

They stayed curled in the other's embrace, even when the fire burned out entirely, and did not return to their beds until the first light crept into the window at dawn.

_She's touching his chest now, he takes off her dress now..._


	9. Chapter Nine: Rainstorm

I was honestly expected to whip up some more fluff and balance out the heaviness of the last chapter, but my muse refused and so you're stuck with the same melancholy as before. But, as Fred and Ginny both say in this chapter, it can only get worse before it gets better.

Unexpected

Chapter Nine: Rainstorm

"It's raining again." Her hand pressed against the glass of the window left a fogged print. She breathed on it, leaving condensation, and swiped her finger across it to marvel at the change.

"I wouldn't exactly call it rain, considering it's the first week of December." A flat, distracted reply. The sound of rustling pages and the scratch of parchment clashed with the steady, drum-like beat of rain on the grounds, on the castle itself.

"Just because it's partially frozen doesn't mean it's not rain." Ginny looked at the orange-tinted reflection: Hermione was sitting on her bed, still in her school robes though it was an hour or two after her last class, pouring over an essay she had just written. Her quill danced across the page, adding or subtracting a fact or figure that she found in the two books laying next to her. She looked tired and ragged to the redhead, though she was always quick to insist she was fine, and return to studying.

Hermione sighed and shrugged. "I suppose you're right," she said, and finally straightened. "I think I'm done."

"In my opinion, you were done about a half-hour ago," Ginny retorted. She moved away from the window and sat down on the bed as Hermione carefully rolled up the essay and placed it in her satchel, along with her books, quill, and ink. "You're too much of a perfectionist."

Hermione stuck her tongue out and wiped her hand across her nose; an ink mark appeared, smudged on the left side. "There's nothing wrong with being thorough," she insisted, leaning in for a kiss in the empty dormitory.

Ginny evaded the affection and instead wiped the ink away with the sleeve of her black blazer. Hermione smiled, but Ginny remained serious. "You're running yourself ragged," she told the brunette, and put a finger over her mouth to silence her as a protest formed itself on her lips. "No, really. You are. O.W.L.'s aren't for another few months, yet you still insist on studying, on top of the extra homework you do for most of your classes. Not to mention the fact that you're taking far too many classes than is healthy. And that's not just coming from growing up with the biggest slackers in the world."

Hermione huffed, sending a few curls flying from her face, but didn't retaliate. She knew Ginny was right, but the redhead was unaware of the true reason behind her studying. To keep up the constant flow of homework and note taking and reading meant the longer she could go without having to admit to Fred that she was cheating on him. Or that she was cheating on Ginny with him. It depended on what told him: her mind, or her heart. And it wasn't only the homework that was keeping her so exhausted - it was the late nights spent worrying, wondering, thinking about the whole mess she had created, kept creating, and was reluctant to get out of because the consequences seemed so dire. There was no way Ginny could understand them. There was no way that Ginny could see the temporary or long-term severing of familial ties with her brother, the one of two that she always spoke so fondly about before this all started. But wouldn't the story spread to the rest of the Weasley's? Her mother would be shocked, her father probably wouldn't understand, the boys would look at Ginny and be disappointed and look at her and be disgusted. The hatred would tear Ginny's world apart. And Hermione hated herself for being responsible for it.

So instead of dealing with it, she gave Ginny soft kisses that grew in intensity when they were alone and tight, tense embraces as they made each other come, and she stayed awake staring at her sleeping form across the room as she tore herself apart from the inside, beating herself up mentally for slowly destroying the one thing that really mattered to her - more than academics, more than growing up and being a smart, sophisticated witch in the Wizardly world.

"Hermione?" the younger girl questioned, brow furrowed with concern.

Hermione smiled gently and pulled Ginny into her arms, running her hands through her smooth red hair. "I'm fine," she whispered into the other girl's ear, and ran her tongue lightly across her earlobe. Ginny gasped lightly, and Hermione grinned. "Let's go outside. It's nice out."

Ginny pulled away and looked at her like she was crazy, but laughed and went to get her heavy raincoat and boots. Hermione watched her fumble with the buttons, as she herself got dressed for the weather, skin on fire with anticipation for the next few hours.

They kissed dangerously, once, twice, three times down the staircase to the common room. Hermione, for once in a long while, didn't care if they got caught, were seen by any of the eyes downstairs. Maybe it would be easier to get caught in the act, have the newsflash come to Fred either by his own eyes or the retelling by others. Maybe it would be easier for all of them, that way.

But she and Ginny both knew that he didn't deserve it, so they parted their hands at the end of the darkness of the staircase and descended with their masks of strictly-friends back on their faces. There was Fred over by the fire - his smile brightened when he saw Hermione, and much to her dismay, stood and came over to them. He winked at Ginny and ruffled her hair; he put his arms around Hermione, kissing her cheek gently. Hermione's mask blushed; the real girl inside felt a sinking feeling in her stomach and glanced over at Ginny. Ginny's mask was still in place, but barely - the indifferent expression was cracking in a few places. Hermione could feel the tension rising from Ginny's skin and the self-loathing returned. Only five minutes of lightheartedness. She didn't know whom she should dislike more: herself, for letting things get this far; or Fred, for being too in love with her to not see she wasn't interested anymore.

"Where you girls off to all dressed up?" he asked, planting another kiss on her forehead.

"Just outside for a walk," she replied, pulling out of his arms, but she reached up to fix her hair as an alibi, to make him not suspect. _Stupid girl, stupid girl, you brought this on yourself,_ she leered inside. _You're playing this game because you want to, not because you have to. And look at Ginny! Oh, wait, you can't, can you? Have to keep that mask up. Have to keep pretending she isn't anything more to you but your friend._ She pulled her hands away from her hair before she could pull it out of her skull in frustration.

Fred raised an eyebrow as he glanced out the window. "You don't need glasses or Extendable Ears, do you?" he teased. "It's raining pretty hard outside. You'll catch cold like that." He shook his head and clicked his tongue, patting her shoulder as if she were crazy. _Oh, god, no, don't do it, Fred,_ Hermione pleaded mentally. "I'll just have to come with you, then, to protect you from the elements."

Inside, she deflated. Outside, it was hard to hide. "Well, you don't have to," she started, throwing quick glances at Ginny, who refused to look back at her. "We're certainly old enough to take care of ourselves, and we're both dressed well enough for the rain."

"Rubbish," he waved his hand nonchalantly in response. "Besides, I haven't been able to spend time with you in a few days." He smiled, expression turning tender. "I miss you. And I miss my youngest sibling." He grinned at Ginny, who smiled back. "You don't mind if I cut into your girl-talk time, do you?"

"Not at all," Ginny replied, too sweetly. Only Hermione noticed, though, as Fred brightened considerably and kissed her again, his lips feeling so much harder than the softness of Ginny's. Her heart was screaming, sinking, exploding in her chest. She wanted to scream, yell, do anything to take her away from him, to make him see that she didn't love him, she loved the girl who stood next to her barely holding herself together.

"I'll be right back then," he told them, turning to go up to the boys' dormitory.

"We'll just meet you by the front gates," she called up to him. He waved his hand behind him to show he had heard, and Hermione looked at Ginny, trying to contain the strained expression. "Come on."

They left the common room, taking quick steps and not speaking through the corridors. Ginny was getting worse and worse at containing her pain; as soon as they got to the front gates, she cracked, and angry tears starting falling down her face.

"When is this going to end?" she whispered fiercely, barely heard as thunder cracked across the sky. "Are you waiting for him to figure this out by himself, or are you just waiting for us to get caught?"

Hermione didn't answer; she didn't trust herself to. She was afraid of what might come out of her mouth and stab Ginny; destroy her more than she was already destroyed.

Ginny ran her hands through her already soaking hair, staring up at the sky. She looked so fragile, so full of pent-up lightning; she was a rain cloud waiting to let loose, a whirlwind of emotion that was kept carefully under control, but someone was letting it slowly trickle out of her body through the hairline cracks of her resolve. _A storm in a teacup_, Hermione thought to herself, _a storm I created._

"I don't think you understand how in love he is with you," Ginny continued, after rainfall and rumbling thunder filled the silence. "He talks about you constantly. George has threatened to beat him up if he keeps up with talking about how wonderful you are. He complains to Ron about how he never sees you, but he doesn't realize the connections. He doesn't realize you're always with me." She laughed bitterly. "He asked me maybe a week ago if you were all right. Said that you were being short with him, distracted, and you wouldn't tell him why. I told him you were fine. I told him that you were just worrying about your studies and that you were overwhelmed by your homework." Lightning flashed, reflecting in Ginny's dark blue eyes. "I told him you still loved him. I kept up with your game because I love you, because I keep on waiting for you to come clean to him and make this all better. But you keep on going on like this is okay, that this is _normal_. Sure, Hermione, people go about lying to one person and sneaking around with another all the time." Ginny shook her head, hiding her face behind her hands. "Yet I can't help but still wonder who you're really lying to."

Hermione was frozen. Her heart was cracking from the weight and sting of razor-sharp raindrops piercing through her thick coat, sinking into her skin with poison dripping at the tips. Hot tears were streaming from her eyes and mingling with the cold rain; she was sure that they were made of blood. Her heart was bleeding out from her pores.

Thunder clapped again as her mouth opened with the front castle doors. Fred stepped out into the storm and looked at them, that oblivious puppy-dog look on his face. Hermione wanted to scream from the injustice of it all.

"I changed my mind," Ginny growled, giving Hermione a hard stare. "I'm going to bed. It's too stormy out here for a walk."

She stomped back inside, past her brother, and slammed the door behind her. Fred looked at Hermione confusedly; the brunette was having a hard time pushing down the pain, the hurt expression, and the self-loathing that she was sure was reflecting in her eyes.

"Well, guess it's just you and me, then," he said, slipping his arm around her waist. "Let's not stay out too long, though - it looks like this storm is going to get a helluva lot worse before it gets better."

"You're right," she replied hollowly, and they stepped out together over the sodden ground.

Hermione returned to the dormitory an hour later, soaking wet and feeling hollowed out. Ginny's candle was still aflame, but the curtains were closed. Despite her reservations, she peeled off her wet clothes and changed into a clean sweater and flannel pajama pants before approaching the closed curtains.

"Ginny?" she whispered. Her entire body was trembling, and it wasn't from the cold.

The body inside shifted. Lavender had looked up from her magazine on the other side of the room, giving Hermione a sad look. Hermione ignored it, and tried again. "Ginny, please talk to me."

Nothing. Hermione stayed poised outside the curtain for a few more heartbreaking minutes before going back to her own bed, pulling the curtains closed around her and curling into a tight ball. _Stupid girl,_ she thought fiercely. _You stupid, stupid girl._

The storm didn't lift until nearly one in the morning. The rest of the candles were out; all except Ginny's. Hermione had stared at it, though the flame blurred from the tears in her eyes, for hours now. It never faltered. It never blew out. Until now; and with it, Hermione's composure faded. There was no stopping the sobs now - the pain that she had brought upon herself. She groped blindly for her wand and hurled a silencing spell around her bed.

Perhaps it was because of that spell that she didn't hear the familiar patter of bare feet from the other side of the room across the wood floor, or the metallic scraping of the curtain rings against the bar. She didn't notice the presence of the body next to her until it wrapped its warm arms around her and hot tears that were not her own spilled onto her face.

"I'm so sorry, Ginny," she choked, clinging to the girl as if her life depended on it. "I love you. I don't know how to prove it to you. I don't know how to make this all go away."

"Yes you do," Ginny replied quietly next to her ear. She held Hermione tighter to her body. "But I understand. It can only get worse before it gets better."

Hermione only hoped it wouldn't have to come to that.

_Choking on your alibis._


	10. Chapter Ten: Intervention

It's amazing what summer vacation can do to one's writing. I have a feeling that this story will be done and over with by the end of the month - are we excited? As my first Harry Potter fic, I think I'm doing pretty well. Thanks to everyone who's left a review. It means a lot to receive such positive feedback. I hope you guys enjoy this one. It's all coming closer and closer to the final climax - in a non-naughty sort of way.

Unexpected  
Chapter Ten: Intervention

_Two minutes late_, Ginny Weasley thought to herself, glancing down at the magically made watch around her wrist. She shifted her weight from her left leg to her right, leaning her back more heavily against the wall of the corridor she was in; just to her left was a door to a broom closet, never used, as far as she knew. Her twin brothers had made the mistake of telling her about it one night as they bragged about their snogging brigades her second year, and she'd never forgotten. She simply tried not to think about whether or not Fred had already brought Hermione there.

But there, there was that head of cinnamon-and-brown-sugar curls, that self-assured but not arrogant click of footsteps. Hermione smiled shyly when she saw Ginny, and Ginny couldn't help but grin. Though things were less than perfect, she had to cling to as much happiness as she could - because she knew that it was all going to fall out from the bottom soon. She could feel it.

The situation was far from her mind, however, as she pulled open the door to the closet and, with a glance to the corridor, which thankfully still remained empty, pulled Hermione inside with her. It was cramped and hot; she could feel Hermione's breath on her cheek and neck, her body heat radiating towards her from only an inch or two away. Exactly how she wanted the older girl.

She didn't bother with saying anything; simply grabbed Hermione around the waist and starting kissing her. It occurred to her vaguely that she didn't just want this girl, as she had originally thought - it had become a question of _need_, almost without her knowing. _Explains why I haven't let go yet,_ she thought, and pulled the brunette closer to her.

Hermione melted into her; their kisses became more heated, more urgent, as they knew their time was short. Belatedly, Hermione thought to put a silencing charm around the closet's perimeters - not that the sounds of making out and between-class quickies weren't normal, but she didn't want to take any chances. Ginny mumbled something incoherent about her being such a clever witch, before stealthily sneaking her hand into Hermione's too-concealing robes.

The response, of course, was immediate. Sharp gasps and stifled moans reached Ginny's ears, the chanting of, "oh god, Ginny, oh god," slurred into her neck. It filled the silence in the room, in Ginny's heart; she didn't feel so lost, so untied.

A trembling hand got past the defenses of Ginny's robes and slipped inside her dampened panties. Her moans and labored breathing met Hermione's in the air and came together with the crashing of their lips, two ships sailing into each other and creating an explosion of passion.

Their bodies shook against each other's and Ginny collapsed against the wall, supporting both herself and the heavily breathing Hermione. She could just make out Hermione's face in the darkness, with her fuzzy-edged vision. Her fingers traced it, and she felt the tired and satisfied smile stretched across Hermione's face.

"I missed you," Hermione mumbled into Ginny's chest, making the redhead smile.

"I missed you, too," she replied, kissing her forehead. A few moments passed, and they were allowed just to hold each other, just to revel in the afterglow and let it sink into their skin and souls. Another memory of their togetherness to catalogue and pull out for a lonely day or a soft-smiled recollection.

But it had to end, of course. Obligations, places to be, the responsibilities of holding up unwanted masks… Ginny felt the sickness return to her stomach at the thought of pretending but managed to hide it well. She understood what Hermione must be going through, the turmoil and the pain, she honestly did. But that didn't mean she didn't feel sick to her stomach at the thought of it; that didn't mean that the dirty feeling could be washed away with kisses, though she liked to pretend that things weren't horrible, that things weren't complicated or that the whole predicament wasn't breaking her heart. She didn't want Hermione to worry. She didn't want them to fight again, just to sob into each other's arms and tell themselves a million apologies and a million promises just to make the next few days okay again. They'd gone without a fight about it for two weeks now; she didn't want the record to be broken this soon.

"Come on, darling," Ginny mumbled to Hermione reluctantly, pushing her gently to rest on her own weight. "We need to get down to the Great Hall for lunch. They'll all be wondering where we are."

Hermione half-smiled ruefully and nodded, reached up with one hand to caress Ginny's cheek gently before planting another brief but passionate kiss on the redhead's lips. Ginny smiled against those lips that she could kiss forever before muttering an "I-love-you" into them, to have her heart soar when it was returned in the same fashion, and finally, she opened the door to step back into reality.

…

Ginny walked a little behind Harry and Ron as they talked, licking her lips nervously and wondering how to approach. _God, Ron's always hanging around Harry,_ she thought, letting out a large puff of air. _Honestly, just because they're best friends doesn't mean that they always need to be together_.

They were talking the hallway back to the Gryffindor common room. She took a deep breath - it was now or never. "Harry!" she called, causing both of the boys to stop. She walked swiftly to catch up with them, a shy smile plastered on her face. "Harry, can I talk to you," she gave Ron a meaningful look, "alone?"

Harry gave Ron a look and the redheaded boy shrugged, eying his sister curiously. "I'll meet you back in the common room, then," Ron told Harry, whistling as he walked away - but she knew that he was throwing back glances at the two of them, wondering what she wanted with the raven-haired boy.

"Can we go for a walk around?" she asked anxiously. "I need to talk to you."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, you said that before." They started walking down the opposite way. "What's this all about?"

She didn't answer for a few minutes, finding it hard to swallow or take in breath. She was about to speak, when to her surprise, the boy spoke for her. "Is this about Hermione?"

Ginny whirled on him, eyes wide with surprise. "What are you talking about?" she asked, more sharply than she meant to. _How would he know how would he know have we not been sneaky enough is this already falling apart what's going on what's going on what's going on_, her brain screamed at her in unintelligible babble.

But Harry just smiled, patted her head gently - pulling the condescending card, but Ginny was used to it by now. And he meant well. But she was still in a panic, and waiting eagerly and anxiously for an explanation. "I heard Lavender and Parvati talking about it," he told her, then quickly added, "together - quietly. I just have good ears, and they didn't say your names outright. But it's hard to not be obvious when they were using code names like 'Mind' and 'Fire,' and the tell-all pronoun 'she.'"

Ginny sent both a curse and a blessing to the two lovers; this would make talking to Harry a lot easier. "She refuses to tell Fred," she told him bluntly. "She's been saying she will for months - ever since this all started, which was just before we went back to school - but she never does, and I don't know what to do about it."

Harry looked at her thoughtfully. "You've talked about it, right?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Of course we have," she snapped, running her hands through her hair. "But… that hasn't changed anything. I know that it's probably really hard to for her to tell him. I mean, I understand that she doesn't want him to get hurt, and that she probably doesn't want him to hate her or me. But at the same time, doesn't putting it off only mean more pain in the long run?" Tears were stinging at her eyes again. Why was this always so hard to think about? "I'm really tired of the sneaking around, especially. I just want to be hers. I hate seeing them together, which only makes me hate myself more. It's not Fred's fault, yet I can't help but be furious with him for not seeing the truth." Snot and tears were dripping from her face; she wiped them away angrily with her sleeve, and sniffed loudly.

They didn't talk for a few minutes. The only sounds were other conversations floating around and bouncing off the stone walls, the steady, rhythmic treading of their feet. Ginny's tears finally stopped, but her eyes hurt again. She'd been crying too much recently; it probably wasn't healthy.

Finally, Harry spoke again. "Ginny," he said slowly, telling her he'd been choosing his words carefully during the silence, "I can imagine that Hermione's terrified of the consequences of her actions, and she's trying to find the most painless way of fixing everything. But knowing her, I don't think she realizes that there isn't _going_ to be a painless way to do that. It's not that she doesn't love you, and she's not hurting you on purpose… But she's trying to protect everyone involved from a lot of pain."

"But that's only causing more!" she interjected angrily.

Harry nodded. "I know, but she doesn't. And she's going to continue thinking the way that she does because she's stubborn like that." Ginny took a moment to smile at that; she knew how stubborn Hermione could be. But Harry's next comment wiped the smile from her face and dropped a cold stone into her stomach. "You're going to have to tell Fred yourself."

Ginny closed her eyes and took a deep breath, thinking about all that would entail. All that responsibility resting on her shoulders. The weight of it made it hard to think past the pain her heart. But she knew that Harry was right - and she knew what she had to do. She realized she hadn't spoken for a few minutes, so she nodded to show that she had heard, and excused herself from Harry's company.

"Good luck, Gin," he shouted after her, frowning to himself. He certainly hoped that everything would work out for the two girls - even if it meant for some painful moments between them.

…

Ginny returned to the girls' dormitory after wandering the school for an hour, trying to clear her head and find the best option for all of this. Should she talk to Hermione first, tell her she was going to tell her brother? Or would the brunette simply talk her down from it, or be offended? She hadn't found any answers within herself, and she was afraid of the answers that Hermione might try to give her. She was afraid of what Harry had said to her. But most of all, she was afraid of what was going to happen.

The dorm was empty - no, there was Hermione, packing calmly, silently. Ginny could sense there was something wrong with the older girl. Her body was too tense, too perfectly poised. There wasn't any happiness to her movements; just anxiety, like a sharp knife tracing up and down her back.

Had Hermione already told Fred? Ginny dared to hope, and approached her with caution, one hand reached out as if she were about to pet a deer. Hermione turned her head slightly in Ginny's direction, but didn't smile, and didn't react. Out of everything that she was worried about, Ginny found herself the most terrified about _that_ - that cold resolve, slithering across her skin and making goose bumps rise.

"Hermione, are you okay?" she asked tentatively, coming up next to her gingerly. Hermione didn't stop folding up clothing, and she didn't answer. She simply gestured with one hand, indifferently, toward a torn bit of parchment on the bed.

Ginny stood there helplessly for a few moments before she sighed and grabbed the parchment from the bed. Reading it over once, she could tell why Hermione was upset - and why she wasn't talking to her.

_Hermione -_

_This has gone too far. You're destroying yourself and Ginny. You're a fool if you can't see her pain._

_Do something, or we will._

_- L.B. and P.P._

Ginny breathed in deeply and tried again, letting the parchment fall to the floor. "Hermione," she began, but the older girl cut her off.

"Don't try to make everything better," she snapped. "It's not your place to. You're not doing anything wrong. I am. I'm hurting you. I'm _destroying_ us." Ginny cringed at the bitterness she heard in Hermione's voice. "There's no way I can make this better. If I tell Fred, it'll just destroy him, too, destroy the relationship you have with him. I should have never gotten involved with him. God, I should have never kissed you afterwards. I shouldn't have been such a bloody coward that day in the field when you kissed me first." Hermione was losing it, but Ginny was too frozen with emotion to help her. Tears were falling; Hermione's body was shaking; wet spots were appearing on the clean clothes she had already packed. The next part Ginny could barely catch. "Maybe I should just end it all now, between both of you, and try to make you forget it every happened."

The words hit Ginny like a bucket of ice water. Emotionally, Ginny was sinking, falling into a black abyss. But her brave, fiery Weasley heart took over her tongue; tears could and would be shed later from the younger redheaded girl.

"Don't you ever say that rubbish again," Ginny growled. "I can't believe you would stoop so low as to regret everything that ever happened when you know that what we have together is something beautiful, something worth fighting for. You think you're doing me a favor by not telling Fred? Do you think that I'm not strong enough to deal with his anger just to be with you? Familial ties heal, and Fred's a big boy - he'll get over it. He's old enough to know that relationships don't last forever, and he's brave enough to admit it. He's not going to hate me; he's not going to hate you, no matter what he might say. If you could just get it around your brain that maybe things won't turn out for the worst, maybe you could actually get the fucking courage to say something to him. Maybe you would've had the courage to say something to him a month ago, two months ago, or when it all started in the first place!" Hermione's eyes were wide and bloodshot with shock, but Ginny continued. "You should know by now that love is about pain, that love is about making sacrifices. We've both made so many fucking sacrifices for each other that we could write a novel about it. They may be small, but they're there - and you're just going to say 'oh well, I guess it's time to call it quits' just because you have to sacrifice something else, something that you don't even _want_? How does that even make any sense?"

She was too angry to wait for an answer. Instead, she stomped over to her own bed and started throwing things into her own trunk, scalding tears running down her face. _More crying,_ she thought, angry with herself more than anything. What if she had been the one to ruin everything with that little speech? What if she had frightened the girl off?

Her cynicism lasted until she could feel Hermione's cool fingers on her hot neck. Ginny turned around slowly, to see the older girl's eyes brimming with tears, and guilt swept through her body like a cold wind. She sighed, pulling Hermione into her arms. "I'm sorry I yelled at you," she told the girl. "I'm just as frustrated as you are."

"I deserved it," Hermione replied, face buried in her neck. "Don't apologize - I should be the one to apologize. _I'm_ sorry. I don't regret anything that's happened between you and me. It's been wonderful. I just… I do need the courage. I don't know where to get it from." Her lips twitched in a sardonic smile. "I don't think I deserve to be in Gryffindor. The hat was wrong."

Ginny shook her head and pulled away, taking Hermione's face between her hands. "No, you deserve to be here," she told her seriously. "It takes a brave person to admit what they have to do." She kissed her, once, and smiled lightly. "By the time we get back to school again, things will be okay. I promise."

Hermione nodded. "I promise, too."

The next day they rode the train with their friends - as friends - to the next station. Arthur and Molly took in all the Weasley's and shouted that they'd expect Hermione the day before New Year's Eve. Hermione waved to the red-haired clan, keeping a special eye on Ginny, before getting into her parent's car.

Ginny spent the car ride, the evening, in a daze. She would have to tell him, and she didn't want to. She didn't want to admit that she was intentionally doing something to hurt him. She understood with burning clarity how Hermione must feel.

But she would have the courage, she told herself over and over again. She would be able to do this, and everything would be okay. It had to be.

Up the stairs, one floor below the attic. Down the hall. Fred was in his shared room with George, but the other twin was absent. Perfect timing.

Ginny approached the room, feeling her stomach tighten and squeeze into knots. Fred looked up when she was in the doorway, a questioning expression on his face.

"Fred," she said, in a voice that didn't sound like her own at all, "I need to tell you something."

_Gotta, gotta be down because I want it all._


	11. Chapter Eleven: Ruined Tongues

This chapter baked in my head for a while before I finally thought to take it out. This story is almost finished; all it needs is the frosting and the candles and we're ready to celebrate. (Mm, cake is good.) I don't know where the cake analogy is coming from. Read, review, and enjoy.

WARNING: Mild assault.

Unexpected

Chapter Eleven: Ruined Tongues

Hermione arrived at the train station with resolutions hanging like bells in her heart. She pulled her trunk behind her and started walking swiftly towards the car the Weasley's had rented from the Ministry; the cold was biting, and she could feel the raw pinkness of her cheeks from the wind beating at her, cutting into her warm wool parka. But despite the cold, Arthur and Molly were still waiting for her, leaned up against the door, smiling and rubbing their hands together. Her eyes glanced through the windows and didn't see another head of red hair. Where was everyone?

"The children are decorating for New Year's Eve," Molly explained, picking up on her confusion as if Hermione had spoken aloud. The brunette could understand why it was so hard to lie to the female leader of the Weasley clan. "Come, Arthur, take the girl's trunk."

Arthur beamed at her as he took her trunk from her, heaving into the back of the car with some difficulty, but he didn't complain. Once he had the large carrying case securely in place in the trunk, he leaned onto the top to close it and gave the women an inquiring look. "All right, everyone? Shall we go?"

They piled into the car. The heat was shotty, but it was enough to return the feeling to Hermione's toes and fingers. She answered their questions about her holiday with her family, and when that topic was exhausted, the merry couple spoke lightly to themselves and Hermione stared out the window - first at the concrete buildings of the city, then on the tamed but still mystical countryside, buried in snow. She let her mind wander as her eyes took in the brown and grey and white landscape to Fred, his red hair, and how she was going to tell him that she didn't love him. That she had never loved him. That she was cheating on him. That they needed to break it off. That she needed to be with Ginny.

The bare basics, she had decided on. He didn't need to know that when they had made love, she had felt awkward and dirty, but had tried to make the most of it by thinking about his sister. He didn't need to know that she didn't like kissing him because his lips were always slightly chapped, and the dead skin would rub roughly against her mouth and make her think of kissing a blister. He didn't need to know that his hand got too sweaty when he held hers, as if he were nervous about holding another girl's hand in general. He didn't need to know that she had never paid attention to a word he had ever said to her when Ginny was in the room.

No, that would only hurt him. Hermione only hoped that these truths would reflect in her eyes, would somehow sneak their way out of her mouth along with the basics. She sighed, loudly, and noticed Molly's eyes look back at her via the side view mirror. She smiled lightly in response, and Molly returned back to her and Arthur's conversation about winter storms.

Hermione went back to her thoughts. Her cool and reasonable mind set up a plan on how to do it: make a clean and neat break, little mess, little clean up. No hearts scattered across the floor. She would wait a few hours, make small talk with the rest of the family, help them decorate. When everyone else was occupied, she would take him aside and ask to talk to him upstairs in his bedroom. They would sneak upstairs, she would repeat _this_ phrase: "Fred, I'm really sorry, but this isn't going to work anymore. I'm not in love with you; I'm in love with Ginny. I'm so sorry… She and I… We've been going behind your back since the start of school. I was just too much of a coward to do anything about it. I don't deserve to be your friend, but I would still like to be." She would let it sink in; she would answer any questions that wouldn't require more heartbreak. She would wait until they were okay enough with each other to walk back down together, and life would right itself again.

_Life would right itself again_, she repeated to herself in her head, before nodding off into a gentle sleep.

…

Hermione awoke again to see the Burrow looming in front of her. It was just past twilight, and the sky was a musky shade of blue. Arthur turned the car off and retrieved her trunk, while she and Molly approached the house and went inside.

The living room was alight with Ever-Burning Candles in a rainbow of colors, twinkling from the rafters and the crease between the walls and the ceiling. Harry and George were charming confetti and balloons to stay suspended in the air above them, while Fred and Ron were coaxing a blue banner magically counting down the time until the new year up to hang from the ceiling. Hermione looked around the room, trying to find a particular head of crimson, and found it by the fire, transfiguring Christmas decorations back into their every day forms. The youngest of the Weasleys looked up when the door had opened and smiled softly when she saw Hermione, but otherwise avoided her gaze. Hermione felt a stirring of confusion of her heart, but tried to push it away - Ginny was probably just anxious for her to tell Fred everything that was going on.

The door opened again; Hermione moved carefully out of the way to avoid Arthur, who was struggling slightly with the trunk. He smiled broadly when he saw the New Year's decorations, and proclaimed his enthusiasm. "Wonderful, simply brilliant," he praised, moving to where Molly stood supervising from the kitchen to wrap his arm around her waist. "Fred, when you're finished, would you help Hermione get her trunk to Ginny's room, please?"

Hermione's heart sank a little, but she tried to muster, again, the courage she had built up during the car ride. The moment was going to happen a lot sooner than she had expected, but wouldn't it be better to get it out of the way?

Fred looked away from his work to his father, and then to her. Their eyes locked; there was a coldness to his blue, and they were dark with turmoil. Her heart began to beat wildly in her chest and fear. Had Lavender and Parvati done something before she had been able to act? But they wouldn't have - she mentally shook herself, finding herself taking large gulps of air. Fred's eyes let hers go and he shrugged, before flicking his wand to fix one corner and coming towards her. She was afraid he was going to make a scene right there in front of his family, but he simply walked past her and charmed her trunk to levitate, and started going up the stairs.

Hermione once again tried to catch Ginny's eyes, to give her some sort of sign that it was finally going to happen and things were going to be the way they had always wanted them to be like - but the girl was avoiding her, her back turned, and after a few more moments of trying, she hopelessly pulled herself up the steps to follow Fred to Ginny's room.

The steps creaked in the rhythm of her terrified heartbeat; every contact of the old wood with her feet sent jolts of panic throughout her body. This was going to be harder than anything she had ever tried to do, and there was no Harry or Ron to back her up. There was no Ginny holding her hand. She was completely vulnerable to her own words, to the surroundings and the circumstance. The door was looming in front of her, half shut. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and stepped through the doorway.

She was just opening her mouth to draw breath when she felt a pair of warm, wet lips on hers and strong arms wrapping around her body. Surprise and panic shot through her, made her eyes open wide and her larynx to attempt to make noise, to let someone know that this intrusion wasn't welcome. But nothing came out - nothing could come out, not with that searing mouth on hers, tongue lashing across hers trying to coax it to a duel to the death, but her mouth was a lover and not a fighter, and refused to take the taunting bait.

She was struggling; she had her hand on his chest, clutching at the fabric of his wool sweater, trying to tear or rip or simply push him away - anything to get him to let her go. But he was so much stronger than she. His arms had wielded a large bat to beat away bludgers for years, creating muscle, creating strength. This wasn't how it was supposed to go - he wasn't supposed to be acting like this. Why was he acting like this?

Her panic rose when she felt him gripping her with one arm while his free hand was fumbling with the buttons of her pants. Hermione could feel herself separate from her body, watching everything from a bird's eye view while she could still feel his fingers brush against the elastic of her panties as the first button came undone, feel his clumsy dealings with the second...

But then Fred let her go, released her mouth and her shaking body. His eyes were dark and husky and his lips were bruised red from the force of his kiss. Hermione was too shocked to do anything. Her hands still clutched at the fabric of his shirt and refused to unlock from their grip.

Silence enveloped them and the room. He was staring into her eyes, the blue deep and impenetrable, and she realized through her foggy-headed state that he was searching for something in her. Something that she couldn't give him. She wished she could tell him. She wished she could open her mouth and explain herself. But no sound would come. Her courage was gone. She wanted him to do the talking, to do the explaining. To force her to talk with his demanding questions.

Fred pulled away farther and Hermione's fingers finally pried free, fell limply to her sides before she mustered enough strength and steadiness to rebutton her jeans. She realized he was looking past her, and a glimmer of something else was in his eyes - guilt, or shame, or the mistake of his actions weighing on his body like a heavy cloak. She didn't understand why until she thought to turn her head, and finally did so - to see Ginny silhouetted by the hallway lights in the doorframe, a look of utmost pain and betrayal shining on her face as if it were written there in black letters across her irises.

"Ginny -" Hermione gasped out, breathing for the first time in years. But she didn't know what else to say. "It's not what you think." She regretted those words as soon as they tumbled out of her mouth. That's what guilty women said when they were caught cheating on their lovers. And that's exactly what Ginny thought of Hermione.

"For old time's sake, was it?" Ginny asked, bitterness biting in the air, slashing into Hermione's sensitive skin and making her cringe. "Thought you'd tell him and try to make things better with a kiss?" Hermione stared helplessly at the redheaded girl, disbelief and horror and a million other emotions racing through her veins at lightning speed for the finish line of what emotion would rule her body for the next five seconds. "You both should have fucking known better," Ginny continued, flicking her gaze briefly to her brother, then back to Hermione. "I'd already told him, you know. I told him the day we came home for holiday."

Hermione could tell that Ginny was waiting for her reaction. But she couldn't feel anything past the ice that was consuming her skin, the blackness that was invading her brain and keeping her from thinking. She didn't know what to say because she was too shocked, too surprised, too far into her panicked state. She could feel the heaviness to her lips and the lack of saliva in her mouth from Fred's forced kiss. She could feel the bruises on her upper arms from where his had squeezed into them, where his fingers had grabbed her roughly. Her rational mind told her to speak up and tell Ginny that it was all a lie, that it hadn't happened like that at all. But her rational mind was being beaten down by the plethora of emotions rejoicing in their big win of consuming her, and she couldn't think past the situation, past Fred's eyes burning into her, past Ginny's tense form and balled fists in the doorway, past the tears coursing down her face and burning her icy skin.

Her reasonable calculations had fallen to pieces. Fred refused to speak. He stood by the bed, silent and aloof, and she could tell he was watching the story unfold with his own confusing emotions. She tried to imagine what he was feeling: guilt for hurting his sister and then assaulting his girlfriend; anger for being hurt by his sister and his girlfriend; bitterness for being fooled; exasperation for not seeing it sooner. She could understand why his tongue was stilled, but she couldn't help but scream at him with her mind to help her, to defend her, to explain himself.

But he didn't. And she didn't know how to. She didn't know how to explain anything without sounding foolish, without sounding like a liar. The tension of the room was making her head spin, and she felt the overwhelming urge to leave, to disappear, to run away and not come back, to hide in the cold until it was safe to come out again -

Before she understood what she was doing, she was pushing past Ginny and flying down the stairs. She was throwing the door open and letting it slam shut behind her. She was cutting across the yard to the snow-covered field, and as she broke into the open ground, snow began to fall around her.

Something told her to stop. Her breath came out in heaves from her excursion and her body was warm despite the cold. Hermione looked around wildly and took it all in, trying to imagine it without the snow, and realized it was their makeshift Quidditch field. The same place Ginny had kissed her the first time. She was back to the very beginning of this mess.

Her body began shaking from the cold, all her body heat gone. She groped for her wand in her sweatshirt's pocket and stuttered out a warming spell on her clothes and bare skin. A gentle heat spread throughout her body, but it wasn't the comfort of another. It wasn't the warmth she felt when she was with Ginny.

_Ginny._ She was slipping away from herself. Her mind played over the last few moments in her head, the sound of Ginny's voice accusing her of betrayal. "For old time's sake" repeating itself like a record pin unfortunately caught on a scratch. It was like how her life had felt for the past few months. Her constant faltering, then apologies flowing out of her mouth, just for her to falter and screw up again. Like now.

Her unblinking eyes became blurry and the falling snow just became a constant stream of white as for the billionth time in the last few months, Hermione Granger began to cry, and for the first time in a long while, there was no one to make them stop.

_Swimming through sick lullabies._


	12. Chapter Twelve: Leaving

So, we're winding down to the conclusion. I'm really proud of myself for sticking to this story for so long. I've become rather attached to it, actually. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and kept my self-esteem high. Thanks to Jezebel Malice for whining at me to write on a regular basis, and inspiring me. Thanks to the Killers for not suing me yet. Thanks to J.K. Rowling & co., too, for the same thing. Oh, and making such sexiful female characters to turn into lesbians (because we all know that lesbians are wonderful).

Unexpected  
Chapter Twelve: Leaving

_And she's calling a cab…_

Hermione folded up another sweater and set it neatly inside her trunk, then sat back on her legs and stared at the contents for a while. Here was her travel-sized life, held in this oversized trunk, faded and cracking. Winter clothing and books to chase the cold away, but not the loneliness. She hadn't quite realized what she had been hiding from until it came staring her in the face.

_This is a good thing,_ she tried to convince herself again, before shutting the trunk and flipping the latch close. _This is what I have to do._

She had come crawling in from the cold and snow after dinner to an infinite pair of curious eyes and question words, but she had ignored them all to ascend to the attic and fall into Ginny's bed, as agonizing as it was to be wrapped up in her scent. No one had come to see if she was okay. She was sure that Ginny and Fred, or maybe Harry, had been kind enough to cover up for her; Ginny and Fred to avoid more minds thinking about the situation, and Harry simply because he was a good friend like that.

That had been two nights ago. The day hours had been spent holed up in Ginny's room, devouring books she had read before without tasting the words. Latin words swam in her brain without any meaning, without the wand movements or the drive. It was all to keep her eyes from wandering to the door, or to the window, where Ginny would be sitting, staring out at the yard, not speaking. The night hours were spent with Hermione lying in Ginny's bed while Ginny sat out on the roof, crawling in through the window when she thought that Hermione was asleep. But Hermione was never asleep. It was simply easier to close her eyes and pretend that none of this was happening. It was the only time that she could.

The tension, the feeling of air caught in her throat and stilling her tongue, it was suffocating her. Hermione had never felt unwelcome in the Weasley's home until now; it was breaking her apart. She couldn't deal with the two pairs of eyes in varying shades of blue, one set hard and cold, the other accusing and aloof. They bore into her whenever they caught sight of her. They found her through walls, through conversations, through inner monologues of her fighting back and forth with herself. She was tired feeling like this house was a battlefield of emotions, and despite everything else inside her screaming that she had to stick it out, the end ruling was escapism.

"So, the rumors are true, then."

Hermione turned sharply towards the doorway to see a disheveled Harry, snow clinging to the strands of his black hair. He looked like a dark, foreboding angel. She was sure that whatever he was going to say to her, she wasn't going to like it.

"What rumors?" she asked flatly, standing. She rested her palms on her hips, trying to look set in her decision.

He gestured towards her trunk, and half-grinned ruefully. "You're running away," he stated simply, "because you can't deal with the situation."

"You don't know anything about it, Harry," she found herself saying haughtily, "so don't pretend that you do. And I'm not running away - I'm leaving."

Harry didn't seem to mind her outburst, and that only made her feel more like a child and less like the rational teenager that she was. But he didn't push her, he didn't try to make her stay with a slew of reasons she could have come up with her own, and already had. He only gave her a calculating look, head tilted to the side. "I don't see the difference," he told her matter-of-factly, "and I don't think Ginny will, either."

He didn't say anything for a few minutes, his face looking torn between telling her something or leaving it be. Hermione waited patiently, not trusting herself to speak. There were too many emotions roaming through her, wild horses trampling across her heart. It was taking a lot just to decide to go; she wondered how much more she would have to push herself to actually leave, though she believed it to be the best option.

"If you want to talk to her," he said finally, startling her a little with the abruptness of his speech, "she's sitting out on the back porch steps. You should at least say goodbye to her." He gave her one last judging, pitying look before turning along the doorframe and walking away.

…

It was late, almost eleven. Hermione charmed her trunk so it would follow her outside, wrapping her dark blue winter coat tighter around her body. It was a cold night, and she could feel it deep in her soul. It was flowing through her veins and making her feel empty. But she had to look past it. She had to do this. She _had_ to.

She saw Ginny sitting on the porch steps, exactly where Harry had said she would be. She was half-bathed in shadow, with only her hand and the glowing cherry of a cigarette visible. She had thought she had been approaching quietly, but the redheaded girl turned her eyes on her and exhaled, burgundy smoke rising from between her lips.

"Looks like you're running away," Ginny stated, before taking another drag from her cigarette.

Hermione winced slightly, hating the term, but half-knowing it was true. She _was_ running away. But what would any of them have her do? She forced herself to take a deep breath, tasting the sweetness of cinnamon on her tongue. "When did you pick _that_ up?" she asked instead, gesturing towards the cigarette dangling between her fingers.

Ginny simply shrugged and blew out more smoke, flicked off a few ashes into the snow. They glowed on their descent to the icy ground, and then burned out completely. "Charlie, I suppose," she replied. "He picked up smoking from the other men he works with in Romania. He buys them for me." She glanced at Hermione again, snorted a little. "I'm not going to bite, you know. You can come closer."

Hermione blushed slightly and subtracted the space between them by a few feet. She could have reached out and touched Ginny with her fingers. "I - I didn't know if you wanted to see me," she said, looking away in shame.

Ginny smiled slightly, and she looked Hermione in the eyes for the first time in forever. Hermione felt her heart stop beating. "Just because this is going on doesn't mean I don't love you," she told the girl. "Though I still don't understand what you were trying to pull in my room, with Fred."

"It's not what you think it was." Hermione hated her voice for sounding so small and tiny; she hated feeling so vulnerable, so out of control. "I…" She forced herself to regain control; she forced the sick feeling in her stomach to dissipate. "I walked into the room after him and he just - he grabbed me. He wouldn't let me go… I couldn't scream, I didn't know what to do." She closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. "I think.. I think if you hadn't shown up, I think he might have tried to rape me."

Ginny stared at her, and she knew that Ginny was only half-believing the story. "I can't believe he would do that," Ginny said, shaking her head slightly, confirming Hermione's thoughts. "But I suppose…" She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I can understand. He didn't want to let you go. He's still in love with you… I guess that should be pretty obvious."

"I wish he wasn't," Hermione replied, almost bitterly. "I almost wish that he hated me." Her eyes were stinging now, with unshed tears and cigarette smoke, and months of the pain she had caused all of them flooded into her instantaneously. "I can't help but think that it would easier for you if you hated me, too."

"Hermione." The brunette was startled from her thoughts; she gasped lightly when she realized that Ginny was now standing, cigarette abandoned and flickering on the snow, and only a few inches away. Her voice sounded like broken glass slicing across an already battered heart, making her whole body ache with pain, the pain she had caused the both of them. "I still want to be with you. You still make me happy. I don't know how I would survive without you." Ginny held Hermione's eyes again, but only for those few brief moments, and Hermione was filled with the infinity that was held within the blue-grey, blurred with tears. "I just… It'll be a while before I can look you in the eye again."

Hermione noticed belatedly she was holding her breath and let it escape, the exhale weighed down with a martyr-like burden. She was being emotionally killed for a cause - to save the one person that she loved. To return everything the way it was supposed to be. "I understand," she said, keeping her own eyes fixed on Ginny's hands. "Ginny… I really don't know what else to say but that I'm sorry. This isn't… this isn't how this was supposed to happen." She inhaled again, sharp and slow.

Ginny nodded at her, slowly. "I know," she said softly.

Silence hung between them for a few minutes. Hermione glanced down at her watch; two minutes until the Knight Bus would arrive and take her away. Her heart wrenched painfully. Could she really do this?

"I love you, Ginny," she whispered, suddenly feeling so fragile and cheated. "Please don't forget that."

Ginny gave her the ghost of a smile. "I love you, too, Hermione. And… I'll try not to."

A crack electrified the air next to them, and the infamous Knight Bus was waiting only a yard or two away, its acne-ridden conductor hanging off the railing and looking at the two girls with a curious expression on his face.

"Your bus is here," Ginny said, stating the obvious, filling the silence.

Hermione took a shuddering breath and nodded, flicked her wand without looking towards her trunk to make it levitate for her. "I guess I'll see you at school, then."

Their eyes met and lingered on each other. Ginny reached out and took Hermione's hand gingerly in her own, the softness of the touch breaking Hermione in half. How was she doing this? She didn't understand what was happening anymore.

But there she was, moving away from the girl that she loved, their fingers slipping from each other. She was approaching the bus, not trusting herself to look back. The gangly boy took her trunk and nearly buckled under its weight, but didn't complain. She told him her destination in a hollow voice and sat on a bed in the middle, next to a wizard who was snoring softly between the sheets.

In the few seconds between the lack of movement and the sudden flash of speed, Hermione saw Ginny light another cigarette.

_While he's having a smoke and she's taking a drag._


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Taking Control

Wow, I can't believe it. I made it through this whole fic within three and a half months. I absolutely loved working on this story, and you can't imagine how pleased I am to get such consistent positive feedback on it. Don't fret, by the way - I'm adding one more chapter. It's not _completely_ finished. There's still a little more to be told, don't you think?

By the way, for those who didn't particularly enjoy the Fredbashing here, I'd definitely go check out pocastella's story "C'mere." She's working on the fourth chapter currently, and it's promising to be a very sweet fic. Link: http(colin)(slash)(slash)www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net(slash)s(slash)2416669(slash)1(slash) (Replace the words in parentheses with their symbol equivalents, kthnxbai).

Read, review, and enjoy the second-to-last installment of "Unexpected."

Unexpected  
Chapter Thirteen: Taking Control

_But it's just the price I pay._

"So, she's gone, then?"

Ginny simply nodded, not in the mood to converse with anyone - not even Fred. Especially not Fred. She sucked in one more drag of her third cigarette before flicking it to the ground next to its family, then pulling another from her pack to smoke. Fred wouldn't care if she smoked. She didn't even care if he did at the moment.

"It's probably my fault she left," Fred said again, his voice flat and emotionless. "After what happened…" He lingered on it for a moment, before sitting tentatively next to his sister on the porch step. "She didn't do anything wrong, Gin," he explained softly, sounding ashamed of himself. "It was me - it was all me." He sighed at her lack of response, but she didn't know if she could give him one at all. "I love her, just like you do. But I love you a whole lot more."

Ginny snorted, turned her head slightly to give him a funny look. "Hopefully not in the same way," she told him sardonically.

Fred half-smiled and shook his head. "I don't do incest," he assured her. "What I mean is, I want _you_ to be happy, and I want _her_ to be happy, and after clever detective work and much thinking, I've realized that you make _each other_ happy." Ginny smiled gently, feeling a tinge of pride for her older brother. "I should have been smart enough to not come between that. I should have been smart enough to not try to make her love me, because that's not what I want, and that's definitely not what she wants."

Ginny took a thoughtful drag of her cigarette, already half-gone, and stared off in the darkness for a long while. She was thinking of Hermione, the girl's cinnamon-tinted brown hair, her dark amber-colored eyes and the way they crinkled at the corners when she smiled just right. She was thinking of Hermione, and wondering if she was thinking of her, too.

"Ginny?"

It was the way he had said it; that unbridled concern, echoing in the syllables of her name like minor chords on a grand organ. The setting went fuzzy, the porch steps seemed to disappear beneath her and she was sobbing uncontrollably up in the air, like the smoke she was blowing out from between her lips.

Fred was up there with her, too. He was holding her around the shoulders, letting her cry into his chest, the wool of his sweater. It became damp with the tears she had refused to shed for the past few days but had wanted to oh so badly. The tears that would prove how much she needed the know-everything brunette who was god-knows-where by now, maybe already curled up in bed, or only just walking through the door to smile faintly at the confused looks on her parents' faces. She had wanted to feel like the strong one, the one who could live up to all this damage without a mark on her, but it was all there beneath her skin and coming out in front of the boy that had been hurt, too, and it seemed fitting somehow that he would be the one comforting her.

"She'll come back," he whispered in her ear, holding her tightly, rocking them back and forth. "She has to."

Ginny had exhausted her mind of wishful thinking. Yet a glimmer of hope was still ignited in her heart by those words.

'_Cause I just can't look, it's killing me…_

The countryside had given way to city lights and Hermione had hardly realized it. Her eyes were blurred, from the fast, reckless driving and the tears that she was too proud to cry. She was right to leave, wasn't she? It was the right thing to do, wasn't it?

She looked back at the window and saw Ginny sitting there on the porch steps, as she had found her. The smoke from her cigarette was twisting its way up and tapering off in the air. Her lips were parted, dry; she slowly darted her tongue out and wet them, then took another drag from her cigarette.

Hermione found sobs resting in her lungs, begging to be let out. She looked away to keep them down, feeling overwhelmed and unsettled. Her eyes wanted to dart to the window again, convicted criminals escaping from prison, so she closed them. There had to be some relief -

But it didn't come. Instead, there was Ginny with her family in the Burrow, the living room aglow with the lights and decorations they had put out, laughing and smiling. Hermione knew it was all fake; come midnight, Ginny wasn't smiling anymore. She was looking out the window, a sad look to her eyes and a desperation to her hands resting on the glass. Waiting for someone; waiting for _her_.

Hermione abandoned thinking, logic, reason, and anything else that would stop her now. She found herself standing, tripping over suitcases and gripping at the bedposts, feeling reckless and despairing and in need of assistance that only a girl with red hair and sad blue eyes could give her. She saw Stan's startled expression, heard the wizard next to her grumble in an irritated fashion about teenagers and their reckless ways, and ignored them both. She didn't even remember making her feet move. Suddenly, she had Stan's shirt in her fists and she was shaking him, her voice hysterical and high.

"Turn the bus around!" she cried. "I need to go back to the Burrow, right now! Please!" And then she found herself sobbing, and she couldn't stop. Her emotions were strung high on a line she couldn't reach, and didn't even both to. After all, a tiny part of her brain that was still mildly sane reasoned, these people did not know her - therefore, they were welcome to think that she really was insane, just a crazy teenage girl who had no idea what she wanted.

Stan gave her a worried, uncertain look, and stuttered as he talked. "I - er, miss - I -" He looked wildly around, then turned his attentions to the old, half-deaf driver in the front seat, while still trying to keep himself and the crying girl steady. "You heard the lady!" he yelled at him. "Head back to the Burrow!"

A pull of levers and a resounding pop was setting them in the direction Hermione needed to go. Her brain still gone, she threw her arms around Stan's neck and kissed his cheek, showering him with thank you's and other terms of gratitude before half-tripping, half-walking back to her designated bed, while the disgruntled wizard slept on.

…_and taking control._

The bus stopped in front of the Burrow at five to midnight. Hermione hurriedly yelled her thanks to the driver and a happy-new-year-to-all as Stan struggled to get her trunk out the door, obviously still flustered from her kiss ten minutes before. It seemed like forever had happened when the trunk was finally resting in the snow and she was hopping off the bus, waving briefly as it flashed away.

Her heart was beating hard in her chest like she had run the entire way. The front door was ages away; would she make it in time? Would Ginny even be happy to see her?

_Don't doubt now_, she pleaded with herself and took a deep breath. Her nerves calmed slightly as she reminded herself that this was, after all, the right thing to do.

"Run, Hermione," she whispered to herself. Her legs reacted immediately, and the front door was a lot closer than she had imagined.

She threw the door open dramatically and stood in the doorway for a few moments, feeling uncertain now. Everyone was looking at her, in various states of shock and curiosity. Ginny was standing in the middle of the living room, staring at her with a hungry and surprised look on her face, and Hermione's heart nearly fell apart. What was she going to do now?

"What I came here to do," she said softly, and resolutely walked towards Ginny, whose blue eyes only widened as she came closer.

"Hermione, I thought you were going to your parents' house for New Year's Eve?" Molly Weasley asked curiously, watching the brunette approach her daughter with an unnoticeable dawning of comprehension.

Hermione, eyes fixed on Ginny, smiled slightly. "They weren't home when I arrived, so I decided to come back," she replied. It was easier to lie about it. They didn't need to know about how she had practically attacked the conductor and cried into his jacket until he turned the bus around. That was a tale for another day.

The Weasleys and Harry were happy with the explanation and went back to their festivities. Hermione chanced a flicker of a glance towards her watch: one minute left until midnight. One minute to explain. She breathed in deeply to start, brain already working feverishly to come up with the right words, when Ginny reached out and placed a finger on her lips. Hermione could feel the desperation in her fingertip, like how she had felt it in her vision, or hallucination, or whatever she ended up deciding to call it.

"Will you kiss me at midnight?" Ginny asked shyly, eyes half-lidded and lips parted.

Hermione felt a playful smirk turn up on her lips. "Maybe." _Thirty seconds_, she told herself, heart accelerating again.

"Maybe?" The hopeful tone to Ginny's voice was not lost on her.

Bursts of sound came from enchanted noisemakers all around them. Colors exploded from candles and house-safe firecrackers. The family cheered and hugged each other, danced around and exclaimed their resolutions at the top of their lungs.

And Hermione Granger, eyes locked on Ginny Weasley, pulled the redheaded girl close and kissed her with a passion that drowned everything else out.

When they pulled away, Hermione felt the familiar fogginess in her brain that told her she was happy - honestly and truly happy - and a blush rushing into her cheeks, and saw to her greatest relief that Ginny was smiling at her for the first time in days.

"Happy New Year," Hermione told her, and then kissed her again.

_Destiny is calling me._


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Music Box

This is it, guys. The final chapter. I was only going to write an epligoue, but then I realized that epilogues are dumb. So I just settled for writing another chapter. I have a feeling that no one is complaining. This story has been so much fun to work on. I'm really glad that I received such positive feedback about it, too. You are all wonderful for boosting my ego. (Though it's questionable that I needed one.) Hope you'll stick around - I have some more story ideas up my sleeve.

Unexpected  
Chapter Fourteen: Music Box

_I never…_

Ginny sat in the backseat of her father's car and stared out at the countryside, letting her thoughts wander far beyond the road and the trees that lined it. They were going to the train station to pick up the brunette that had snagged Ginny's heart the summer before and never let go.

_Neither of us let go,_ Ginny thought to herself, noticing the smile appearing on her lips from her reflection on the car window. _Despite everything - we always held on_.

It amazed the redhead how far they had gotten. After the kiss on New Year's Eve, the Weasley family had surprisingly reacted quite well - even Fred, though the boy still ached from a bruised ego and a cracked heart for a few more months. Ginny had thought that that was as far as it would go, that their "declaration," as Ginny thought of it as, would only stay among her family. But the brunette had surprised Ginny again by not only holding her hand the entire train ride to the castle, but also kissing her in the middle of the Great Hall during dinner, a sweet, honest smile on her face.

From there, of course, the "news" of their relationship had spread like wild fire through the houses. Most of their housemates reacted positively, and their openness of the situation also caused Lavender and Parvati to slowly creep out of the shadows (though that certainly wasn't as large-scale a scandal as the "love triangle" that was being boasted by the situation between Ginny, Hermione, and Fred). Other classmates took it upon themselves to make being together as difficult as possible, to the point of removing points from Gryffindor house if they so much as walked together in the hallways.

_Fucking Malfoy and his cronies_, Ginny thought darkly, frowning to herself - before grinning again, devilishly, at the thought of how Ron and Harry had gotten back on them. Transmuting him into a ferret had been a very just payback, and the month-long detention with Snape had been, in their words, very much worth seeing the look on his face as they got him with the double wand blasts. Even Hermione had gotten a laugh out of it.

After that, things had gotten a little easier, but Ginny - and Hermione - were both happy to be done with school and off on vacation. It had been almost three weeks since they had seen each other; Hermione had spent them with her parents, traveling to France to visit Hermione's uncle and the French Wizarding world. Though they had certainly Owled back and forth during those weeks, Ginny was anxious to be in her arms again…

"Ginny, dear, aren't you going to get out of the car?" her mother asked amusedly, smiling at Ginny's obliviousness.

Ginny blinked back to reality quickly, and saw the parking lot of the train station surrounding her. Excitement bubbled and swelled in her heart, overflowed her veins and sent her out of the car and walking towards the platform, a few steps ahead of her parents. The train wasn't going to be arriving for another ten minutes, but she wanted to be prepared, ready and waiting to encircle Hermione in her arms before the brunette had even finished getting off of the train. She daydreamed happily about what she would say, how they would take each other's hands and Ginny would offer to carry her trunk for her and after a few moments of argument she would simply _take_ it before Hermione had a chance to take it first, and they would walk together to her parents and snuggle in the back of the car - tamely, of course, because her _parents_ would be in the front seats - and Ginny would ask her about France and her family and everything would be perfect.

In fact, she became so immersed in her own daydream that she didn't notice Hermione walking towards her until she saw that familiar shy, knowing smirk and those sparkling amber brown eyes staring straight into hers.

She didn't do anything but react. Her arms were suddenly wrapped around Hermione and she was filling up to the brim, feeling tears of something wonderful stinging sweetly behind her eyes. When she pulled away to get a good look at the brunette, she noticed that her eyes were sparkling suspiciously as well.

There were pleasantries between Hermione and her parents, but she didn't hear them. Ginny found herself captivated by Hermione's mere presence. She had no idea what else was going on around her. It didn't seem to have much purpose, now.

Much to her delight, they did snuggle in the back of the car, and Hermione whispered to her about France and her uncle. Hermione talked about eating in French cafés and drinking wine with dinner, and admitting (with a blush) that she had gotten a little drunk only after two glasses. Ginny laughed and just held the girl closer.

"I ran into Fleur Delacour," Hermione mentioned suddenly, and Ginny froze slightly. "You remember, the female who participated in the Triwizard Tournament with Harry."

Ginny nodded; she also remembered Hermione, her brother, and every other male student at Hogwarts staring at her like she was a goddess come from the sky to bless them. Hermione didn't still find her attractive, did she? Ginny fought down the insecure panic that was clawing at her skin. After all, Hermione was _here_, with _her,_ not with some part-Veela wench.

"She was just as stuck-up as I remember her being," Hermione continued when Ginny didn't say anything. "I didn't much like talking to her." The brunette wrinkled her nose slightly. "Not like I ever really did. She's far too aware of how beautiful she is, and she used it for her own selfish purposes." She smiled at Ginny; Ginny felt herself calm and become settled again. Everything was fine.

They sat through a family dinner and while Hermione retold her trip to the rest of the Weasley's, Ginny was happy and somewhat amused to hear Fred mutter to her about his crush on Angelina Johnson and how in the world should he handle it?

"After all, she could be a lesbian," he whispered to her. "I mean, she is the Quidditch _captain_. I don't think I could handle that kind of rejection again."

Ginny hid her laughter with her napkin and simply shook her head at her brother before replying. "Don't worry," she whispered, "I saw her swooning over Viktor Krum last year. Though she might be bisexual - but that still means that you have a chance."

He grinned at her and went back to eating. Ginny turned her attention back to Hermione, and simply gazed for the rest of the meal.

…

"I have a present for you," Hermione proclaimed once they had arrived to Ginny's room, and Ginny groaned begrudgingly. She absolutely hated presents. She hated it when people tried to give her something, because she didn't have anything to give in return. Maybe Hermione would change her mind, take it back, keep it for herself…

But she didn't. Hermione, beaming, placed a small wooden box in Ginny's open palms. It was made of cherry wood and gleamed with a high polish. Ginny ran her fingers across the surface, feeling the carved flower vines design around the edges. It was gorgeous. There was no way she could accept this.

She opened her mouth to tell Hermione just that when Hermione cut her off. "Open it," she coaxed, gesturing with her hands.

Ginny frowned at her, still upset at having a present, but did so. The latch came undone easily and the lid flipped open on its own. Ginny looked inside and found only what it was: an empty box. She was about to open her mouth again to ask what she was looking at, when the empty air in the box glowed a light blue, and music began playing lightly.

"_Coming out of my cage and I've been doing just fine.  
__Gotta, gotta be down because I want it all.  
__It started out with a kiss,  
__How did it end up like this?  
__It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss."_

"What is this?" Ginny asked, perplexed. The song continued and Hermione didn't answer. With a sigh, the redhead simply did as was inferred by Hermione's lack of answer and continued listening.

"_Now I'm falling asleep and she's calling a cab  
__While he's having a smoke and she's taking a drag.  
__Now they're going to bed  
__And my stomach is sick  
__And it's all in my head but  
__She's touching his chest  
__Now, he takes off her dress  
__Now, let me go.  
_'_Cause I just can't look  
__It's killing me  
__And taking control."_

"Hermione," Ginny whispered, staring at the brunette with uncertainty. The lyrics, as she heard them, sounded almost exactly like what had happened to them. What she had been feeling. Why would Hermione give something like this to her?

"Just listen," Hermione replied simply. Ginny frowned, but did so, hoping that Hermione would explain herself once it ended.

"_Jealousy, turning saints into the sea.  
__Swimming through sick lullabies.  
__Choking on your alibis.  
__But it's just the price I pay,  
__Destiny is calling me.  
__Open up my eager eyes…"_

The lyrics repeated again; Hermione reached over and shut the box gently, and it stopped, leaving them in silence. Neither moved. Ginny was far too surprised and confused to say anything; thankfully, Hermione broke the silence for the both of them.

"It's a music box," Hermione explained in a light, almost casual voice. "Well, a magical music box. Non-magic music boxes have melodies that play after you crank the key in the back of it. This, I found in France. The song I heard on the way back to my house in England, on Muggle radio." Hermione breathed deeply. "It - reminded me of you. And us. And what happened. The owner of the shop told me I could record any song into the box, and it would magically keep. Eventually, the song will fade and start skipping, but all you have to do to fix it is talk into it. It takes the strength from your voice and adds it to that of the voice that was originally recorded." She smiled lightly at Ginny, who swallowed and smiled gently back, still shaken slightly.

"Do - do you like it?" Hermione asked hesitantly, after a few minutes of more silence.

Ginny grinned suddenly and set it down on her bedside table. "I love it," she replied, before pouncing on the brunette and pulling her into a three-weeks-worth-of-not-seeing-you kiss. It didn't take long for their clothes to become nothing but crumbled heaps of cloth on the floor. Ginny poured everything into kissing, touching, loving Hermione, teasing her thighs with her fingernails until Hermione was squirming impatiently under her, before finally giving in and rubbing her fingertip into the sensitive flesh between her legs.

They did this all night; making each other come to the point of not being able to see, not being able to move. Their bodies became hypersensitive bundles of sweat-slick skin that carried their fast-beating hearts. Ginny couldn't remember every being happier.

When they finally couldn't make love anymore, they curled up together under the sheets and simply reveled in each other's eyes, the curve of their cheekbones. Hermione's eyes closed sleepily first; Ginny smiled, and leaned close to her ear.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too," Hermione half-mumbled, half-whispered back, before falling completely into oblivion.

Ginny's last thought before following her into dreams was that it could only get better from here.

'_Cause I'm Mr. Brightside._


End file.
